


I'm gonna burn for you, you're gonna melt for me

by MrsStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Camping, Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Football, Happy Ending, Jealous Louis, Jealousy, M/M, Sharing A Tent, Smut, Subtle flirting, Vulnerable Louis, Wicked game, bonfires are important, but harry won't give up, chris isaak, flirting using food, harry can't resist, harry has never been in love, harry is a counselor in training, louis has a tragic past, louis opens up, louis won't give in, overt flirting, they kind of share that really, until now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 126,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsStylinson/pseuds/MrsStylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is the 22 year old counsellor in training who meets Louis on a camp for young boys with mental health issues and takes up the challenge of getting him to open up. Louis is beautiful and haunting in his near constant silence and Harry wants to crack the code. But the closer he gets, the more his own heart cracks, opening up to let a fiery blue eyed boy seep inside without warning. The more Louis shares, consciously or not, the more Harry wants. But Louis’ wrestling with demons Harry can’t fathom and Harry is fighting against the pull of his own emotions. In the end, it might just come down to a test of wills and two hearts grazing against each other, trying to discover if they fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! As I no longer have a beta, I am very sorry for any minor errors. However I have edited each segment thrice I assure you so hopefully it’s devoid of the worst ones. I do hope you enjoy this new story and if you do, please please let me know. But please also let me know if you do not. And if you’d just like to talk about larry or nothing in particular, that’s cool too. My tumblr is: http://lovehoperomance.tumblr.com/
> 
> Now I do have to do an annoying warning thing. This story discusses depression and all that might be associated with that. If that puts you off, I’d like to insist that despite the angst, I still think there’s a generous load of fluff throughout and it should definitely leave you with some warm fuzzies. But yeah please don’t read it if you do find that stuff too personal or upsetting and always remember to talk to a professional if you experience any issues like that yourself and to me because I’m always happy to help :) Also quick note, the timing for holidays and schooling is not at all accurate but I call that creative license ;)   
> Xo 
> 
> The title comes from the song give in to me by garrett hedlund and leighton meester. If you want a real taste of this fic, it's basically the theme song. Also mentioned in this chapter, light surrounding you by evermore.

**Prologue**

_December 2012_

The olive toned boy’s cheeks are soaked with tears as he bursts from the huge oak doors, no longer trying to contain the gasping sobs threatening to break through. The world is a blurring mess of smudged green leaves and wintry grey sky as he rushes down the steps and finds himself bending over and dry heaving next to the sign that reads, “St. Simon’s church.” When he finally straightens his body, he’s met with two familiar blue eyes attached to a long lean body with dark black hair. The woman before him is pale, gaunt and trembling all over like a leaf but she looks determined nonetheless.

 

“You should go back in there,” he says, voice strained with the tension of holding it all back.

 

Her head lulls to the side, a little woodenly, not as sharply as it used to and suddenly the pain in her eyes is simply merging with his. Mother and son….or as close as, anyway. 

 

“They’re just doing the sermon. It was his dad’s wish, not mine,” she explains, as she thrusts the object previously hidden behind her towards him, “I wanted to give you this.”

 

The boy stares at the worn item for a few moments as a thousand memories trickle back into his consciousness. Nights spent playing footie at the oval, bellowing at each other across a field. Days spent flicking spit balls at each other in class and calling each other juvenile names. Those few years when they’d held the whole world within their palms but then one day, he’d loosened his hold and everything had come crashing down. 

 

“I don’t-I don’t think so. Not after-“

 

“He’d want you to have it,” the woman insists, tears shining in her eyes, “he loved you.”

 

She’s looking at him all hopeful, like maybe he might know how to get back to the days when they’d come barging through the door together, covered in mud and grinning from ear to ear and she’d make them both a cup of tea while they argued about their footie skills. Yet what can he offer her when he himself is just scrabbling to survive? Not even knowing whether he deserves to. He wants to tell her the truth, to offer up the one thing that maybe could help….someone to blame…but he’s innately selfish. He’s afraid. So he bites his tongue, watches as her tears begin to brim over and takes the item from her.

 

“Thank you,” he says with a rough tone.

 

She tries to smile but it’s misshapen and warped. 

 

“Come back inside,” she encourages, holding out a shaking hand for him to take.

 

He could. He could grasp her hand, accompany her back inside and try to make up for the most vital component of her life that’s now missing. He could pretend it’s not all his fault and that he has some right to be here; to mourn. Yet the tie feels tight around his neck, the pointed shoes that belong to Dan are too big and his feet slip around, out of place. The jacket is also miles too big. It’s just another sign that he isn’t meant to be here, that he can’t blend into the crowd of mourners gathered here.

 

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” he forces the words out, watching her face fall in sync with her outstretched hand, “I have to go.”

 

He stumbles near drunkenly away from the church, trying not to beat himself up over the look of betrayal and hurt apparent in her eyes. Yet maybe he should beat himself up. Maybe every ounce of pain that he has the potential to feel should be felt because that’s what he deserves. That is his burden to carry. His blue eyes flicker up to the greying sky and he sighs a little with relief as droplets of rain hit his skin, somehow lessoning that feeling of suffocation.

 

He’s looking past the clouds though, to some place he hopes exists beyond that. He’s looking to that one person he let down, that one person who would have been by his side his whole life if not for his own mistakes. He’s making a promise now, a vow that as long as he shall live, it will be in darkness. He will never be able to atone for what he’s done but he will not be rewarded, he will not be soothed. His life will be one of sadness and emptiness for that is his curse. Nothing can change his fate now.

**Present Day**

 

_Day one_

 

The campsite is a familiar setup for Harry. The assorted collection of moth brown tents, the predictably old and faded warehouse like building for seminars and communal meals and a patch of woods in the background…it’s all familiar. Harry’s been with The Boy to Boy Project since he stumbled out of school, vaguely interested in law but mostly in helping others and found that there were better avenues to do so.

 

He had come across an advert pinned to a notice board at uni. The fluoro pink paper had called for males interested in helping their younger male counterparts achieve optimal mental health and had advocated for experience. It made up Harry’s mind for him. He’d spent the last couple of years studying. The camps usually ran for about a month over the Christmas holidays and despite the fact that its unpaid work, Harry usually spends the rest of the year looking forward to it. Working at the little run down bakery in his home town just does not compare to the rush of seeing a kid’s eyes light up as they find kinship with the people around them. He’s kind of living for the day that he gets to do this job for real; 365 days a year…or thereabouts.

 

Yes, the people flocking in and out of tents, carrying sleeping bags over their shoulders and towing bags from the bus to their new home for the next month, are not a foreign concept. However this is Harry’s first camp in Doncaster which means a bunch of new kids that he’s never dealt with before. It also means a new crop of mediators. He has been studying to be a proper counsellor for four years now but he just hopes he can live up to his reputation. The head of the camp in Cheshire, Simon, had recommended him because Doncaster were lacking in well trained mediators. Thankfully Niall decided to come with him.

 

“Haz…mate,” the Irishman says from behind him, clapping him on the shoulder as he stares out at the landscape before him, “you just gonna stand here all day or are you gonna help the rest of the lads with the luggage? I know you drove down but mate, these kids brought shit loads.”

 

“Yeah…sorry Nialler,” he apologises with a sheepish grin, clapping him on the back in return as they make their way back to the buses.

 

…..

 

It’s a couple of hours later that they’re finally all settled into camp and a group of the boys are using the barbecue situated in the corner of the warehouse, frying up sausages and burgers for campers and mediators alike. Harry’s got about three sausages and one burger but he doesn’t feel too guilty considering Niall’s got about twice that packed on his plate and a little more shoved in his mouth as he engages the pair of mediators seated across from them. They’d introduced themselves as Zayn and Liam a few minutes prior and Niall is already in his element, ever the social butterfly.

 

“He’s an absolute natural lads. I shit you not, there isn’t a kid he couldn’t get through to,” Niall shouts, specks of food flying out in different directions, “his buddies always go home promising to like, call him and stuff. It’s bloody annoying. He always wins mediator of the year back home.”

 

The ashen haired boy, Zayn, snorts, perhaps more amused by Niall’s eating habits than by his words while the other boy, Liam, looks intrigued. His warm brown eyes meet Harry’s with a certain deep intensity that Harry finds satisfying for some unknowable reason.

 

“How long have you been at it Harry?”

 

“Four years now,” He curls an arm around Niall’s neck and squeezes tightly, “met Niall on the very first camp I went on.”

 

Niall grins, exposing a mouthful of chewed up sausage and bread. To their credit, the other boys don’t cringe as many in the past have.

 

“I wonder….” Liam says in a contemplative tone.

 

Harry takes a huge bite from his sausage, careful to swallow before speaking. He’s proper posh….well no speaking with food in his mouth at least.

 

“Wonder what?”

 

“Is this about…” Zayn trails off, as his hand crosses over Liam’s wrist briefly.

 

The boys share a curious look and seemingly communicate without words as they turn back to Harry.

 

“There’s a boy…well he’s 18 now actually…been coming on these things since he was 16. Kind of a hard nut to crack though,” Zayn explains, looking around covertly as if worried about someone overhearing, “he apparently went through some kind of trauma, some kind of tragedy. Mother says it’s his story to tell but he refuses to speak to any of the mediators.”

 

“Eighteen?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow, “what’s he doing on the camp? Oldest buddy I ever saw was about 15.”

 

“Well his mum knows one of the co-founders apparently,” Liam adds now, in hushed tones, “and she makes him come every year. Just waiting for someone to get through to him apparently. Threatened to kick him out of home if he didn’t come again this year.”

 

Harry’s nodding along now but his eyes are scanning the room, just trying to pick out an older boy among the crowd of younger ones. 

 

“You won’t find him here,” Zayn says now, as if that were obvious, “he boycotts dinner on the first night because Paul, head of camp that is, doesn’t get here till here later and so isn’t here to force him to come eat. Still….even Paul can’t force him to talk to us. Not one word.”

 

Harry’s interest is piqued. He always was one for a challenge. Still, he’s not sure exactly what’s being asked of him.

 

“What does that have to do with me?” He asks, taking a sip of his water.

 

“Well…” Liam glances at Zayn before continuing, “We were wondering if maybe you could get him to talk. Get him involved. I mean…since you’re so good at this whole thing.”

 

Niall claps him on the back so hard, Harry almost face plants into his food.

 

“Haz can do it!” He shouts enthusiastically.

 

“Can he?” Zayn asks, eyes sparkling, “I’d love to see him try. Love to see him succeed even…. but I’ll bet you fifty bucks, he can’t get through to the guy.”

 

Harry groans as he sees the glow of competition lighting up Niall’s entire being.

 

“You’re on,” he cries out, thrusting his hand forward for Zayn to shake.

 

“I look forward to winning your money,” Zayn teases, grasping Niall’s hand tightly.

 

The two laugh with each other as Liam and Harry share a wearied look.

 

“You know this isn’t a game Zayn?” Liam sighs, looking disappointed.

 

Zayn just smirks at him, completely unruffled and draws the boy into his side.

 

“Payno, I’m just having a bit of fun. Remember that? Like that time we fooled around in Paul’s tent when you got high off my weed fumes?” 

 

Zayn’s eyes are glittering with humour and it makes Liam flush as he tries to pull his body away but Zayn just grips his wrist, looking positively jubilant as he ducks down and plants a soft kiss on the struggling boy’s mouth.

 

“Oh so you two are together?” Harry asks, feeling slightly buoyed by the sight of two boys unashamedly kissing.

 

“Well…” Liam looks down at his lap, “not exactly.”

 

Zayn looks uncomfortable now as he frowns down at Liam’s tortured expression and both Niall and Harry feel the tension flooding the room and both, at the same time, choose to interrupt it.

 

“So you get high?”

 

“So what’s this kid’s name?”

 

Liam cuts Zayn’s answer off with his own, directed Harry’s way.

“Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”

 

“Think you should get a head start,” Niall hints, nudging him none too lightly, already having abandoned his own question asked of Zayn, “go find the guy. Win me this bet.” 

 

“I will get a head start,” Harry agrees much to Niall’s excitement, “however, my aim is not to win you money but to help the poor lad. He must have been through something pretty terrible.”

 

Harry brings both of his legs out from the chair and stands giving the boys before him a decisive nod before turning to leave. However, Liam calls out to him. 

 

“Harry!”

 

He turns to meet the boy’s gaze.

 

“He wears this worn green jacket all the time. Almost never parts with it. If he’s not wearing it, he’s carrying it. That’s how you’ll know it’s him,” Liam advises.

 

“Thanks,” Harry replies with a smile, “wish me luck!”

 

“Don’t need it,” Niall calls, “he won’t be able to resist those dimples.”

 

Harry walks from the warehouse with a grin spreading across his face.

 

….

 

It takes Harry a while to find Louis Tomlinson. He searches every single tent on their square of land, the toilets/bathroom and finally takes a quick peek back in the warehouse just in case. Eventually he rests his eyes on the woods, shrugs and hopes for the best as he makes his way into the collection of trees. By the time he stumbles across the lake, the sky is just beginning to darken, glowing a soft grey-blue and the boy sitting on the bank of the river, swinging his feet in the water, is illuminated by the first silverly glow of moonlight that filters down and stretches across the earth. 

 

Harry stumbles across a broken tree branch and falls into the clearing with a loud crash, startling a few birds and other woodland creatures who scuttle off in different directions. When he brushes the debris off his black skinnies and stands again, he jumps a little as his eyes catch those of the tanned, strangely petite yet still more than slightly muscular boy before him. Louis Tomlinson’s body is twisted around to look at him, the signature green jacket bunching around the waist and revealing that it’s too large on his tiny frame. His big blue eyes peer at Harry through the semi-darkness, looming large in his face and contrasting with the olive tones of his skin. 

 

He’s wearing a dark black t-shirt beneath the jacket that blends into black skinnies that resemble Harry’s own and they’re pulled up to expose tiny, dainty ankles that rest just below the water’s surface. Harry’s throat feels awfully dry as his mind wraps itself around the image of Louis Tomlinson. The boy with a tragic past. The boy with a beautiful face. Not that Harry is looking. He’s in a position of power after all.

 

“Louis?” He asks, somehow still expecting some form of response.

 

After all, he’d anticipated some kind of blankness in the boy’s face and yet now he’s looking into the eyes of someone who doesn’t seem at all deadened or stripped of their humanity. This particular pair of eyes is bursting with life and intelligence. These blue eyes hold a certain spark, a certain potential for adventure that is just waiting to catch alight but it seems it’s locked within him. The twitching lips that form his small, pink mouth do not give way to a smile nor do they part with speech. Instead he twists his body back around, his back and shoulders stiffening.

 

Right, this is Harry’s challenge. Get through to Louis Tomlinson in four weeks or less. He can do this. He walks over to the bank and seats himself down next to the boy, watching his facial muscles contract in response as he leans ever so slightly away. 

 

“I’m just going to talk to you for a bit if you don’t mind?” Harry asks but of course there’s no response.

 

Louis’ eyelashes cast fine shadows against his cheekbones as he blinks down at the river, his face an intriguing construction of finely shaped cheekbones and harsh angles. It’s startlingly attractive and Harry is caught off guard by his own reaction to it. He’s never been this fascinated by someone’s physical features before.

 

“I want to start off by promising that I’ll never lie to you. So I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t been briefed on you…that I don’t know your history of silence that is. Yet of course that doesn’t mean I know anything about you. I suspect not many do and that’s okay….you don’t have to give something of yourself to everybody you meet. But maybe….maybe just one person. Maybe I can help you with that and maybe I can’t but I just want you to know that I get it,” Harry says, more than a little impassioned.

 

Louis’ face looks rather tense as he casts his eyes up over the river and towards the trees on the other side of the bank but he still keeps those lips pursed, holding in his secrets or his protestations. Most probably both.

 

“There were people in my life who tried to change me too. Who I was made them uncomfortable, displeased them really. But I guess that’s the difference innit?” Harry reaches across and gently clasps Louis’ wrist, feels the bones sticking out as he jolts and then tenses, “I’m not going to try and change you to make myself feel better. I’m going to help you change this,” Harry rubs a thumb over Louis’ bone that juts out defensively, “for you.”

 

Louis pulls his wrist away quite violently now, seemingly chewing on the sides of his mouth as he holds back what seems like a whirling storm of emotion, his feet kicking aggressively in the water. This boy is certainly no blank canvas. He’s about to combust with the escalating pressure of all that’s whirring inside him.

 

“I know that sounds like crap,” Harry continues, pulling his jeans up along his legs, “but I don’t do bullshit Louis. I’m not about to tell you that jacket fits you great for instance. It’s way too big.”

 

Harry sticks his feet in the water and watches the way his large, creamy toned feet contrast with the small, darker toned feet of the boy beside him. It’s a few moments before he looks up and notices that Louis is staring at him with malice in his sharp, blue eyes, his prominent cheek bones twitching convulsively. 

 

“Right,” Harry says, holding his hands out in a placating gesture, “no insulting the jacket.”

 

Louis stares at him for a moment longer, his angry, loud breath coming hot and fast in the night air. The scene is suddenly buzzing with tension and Harry has the strangest urge to embrace the boy even as that boy stares him down with near hatred. He realises though that this would not be welcomed and when Louis looks away, they simply stay seated beside each other, swinging their feet and watching as the last dregs of sunlight begin to melt away. He hums The Script for a while under his breath and is it just his imagination or do Louis’ feet kick out in time with his song? 

 

“I didn’t mean it doesn’t look good on you,” Harry says in a low tone, the pervading darkness and eerie silence making the comment sound more intimate than he intended, “just doesn’t quite fit right.”

 

Louis’ feet still in the water but he doesn’t acknowledge the comment of course. Harry feels a bit like a tosser. He hadn’t meant to sound so….predatory. Not that the boy is that much younger than him. Four years. Yet Harry is here to help him, not attract him….of course it isn’t as if he was trying to do that anyway. The words just seemed to fall from his own mouth without his own permission. It’s unsettling. 

 

Eventually Louis jumps up, startling Harry out of his own thoughts as he shakes off his feet and heads off back through the tress in the direction of the camp. He doesn’t wait for Harry, his chocolate brown quiff disappearing quickly into the encroaching greenery but Harry doesn’t mind so much. He realises belatedly that while Louis hadn’t engaged in any major interaction, he hadn’t chosen to escape either. Perhaps the boy wasn’t as far removed from the world as he’d like to be.

 

When Harry returns to the camp, Paul is at the helm of things, calling out names and paring off mediators and buddies. Harry joins the fray with a frown, quickly finding Niall, Liam and Zayn who all look similarly disgruntled.

 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, grabbing Niall’s shoulder, “don’t we get to pick our buddies?”

 

“Paul thinks this is a better system apparently,” Zayn answers for him, rolling his eyes, “I better not fucking get that kid who threw a tantrum about the shape of the sauce on his sausage.”

 

Liam grips the back of his neck, effectively chastising him with a meaningful look.

 

“Don’t be like that Z. You don’t know why he is the way he is,” Liam warns him.

 

“Yeah,” Niall agrees with a mischievous smirk, “maybe he had a traumatic experience with sauce as a child.”

 

Niall and Zayn both snigger together as once again, Harry and Liam are both on the same page, rolling their eyes at their companions. However, Harry’s attention is quickly stolen by the lean, slightly elfin like individual joining the back of the crowd on the opposing side to where he stands. 

 

“Louis,” he breathes, unaware that he’s just uttered this aloud, watching as the boy crosses his arms, planting one ankle behind the other.

 

“What was that?” Niall questions, his voice lilting with amusement.

 

“Did you just say…?” Zayn glances between Liam and Niall, his lips quirking with the taste of mockery, “Louis.”

 

He imitates Harry’s slightly airy tone perfectly and Harry’s cheeks flush a little at his own carelessness. So Louis is a lot like the kind of boy he used to imagine when his mother first told him it was okay to be more concerned with the prince than the princess. It doesn’t matter. Harry won’t let it get to him. He’s a man on a mission….just not that kind.

 

“Shut up,” he grumbles back.

 

The other boys, including Liam this time, snicker together as he lets out an exasperated sigh. Niall, Zayn and Liam quickly get paired off with their respective buddies. Niall’s buddy, Colin, looks a lot like a much younger version of David Beckham and bounces after Niall, mirroring the older lad’s perpetual energy. Liam gets paired with a pre-teen boy with curly black hair and ivory skin named Devon who blushes when Liam offers him a hand. Harry’s heart breaks a little for him. Unrequited crushes are a pain. Harry doesn’t even try to restrain his shit eating grin when Zayn gets the boy who threw the sauce tantrum, Zeke, who proceeds to spit on his shoe with venom and run off in the direction of the tents. 

 

Harry’s name is called out second to last. It’s him and a tall guy with dark black hair remaining as potential mediators and Louis and a little ginger haired boy who are the potential buddies. Harry finds himself chanting Louis’ name under his breath as Paul consults his list. Now that he’s met the boy and knows just a fraction of his story, now that he’s seen the way his body bunches beneath his clothes and the way his bones frame his whole body with some sort of sharply defined elegance, he wants more. He wants to crack the code. 

 

“Harry Styles,” Paul bellows and Harry stands to attention, “Irvine Woods.”

 

Harry’s throat tightens and when he looks across the way at Louis, his arms are crossed even more tightly than before, his body rigid. Harry crosses the grounds to Paul, his mind made up, the disenchanted expression on Louis’ face only spurring him on further. Louis looks just like that kid that always gets picked last for gym. Harry knows the feeling, being pigeon toed, clumsy and not overly coordinated. Not that Louis doesn’t look primed for any and every form of physical action….those arms alone….even beneath the jacket….but Harry’s letting himself get distracted. This is about being somebody Louis Tomlinson can count on and maybe, just maybe, indulging his own desire to get to know the boy.

 

“Paul,” he whispers in the larger man’s ear.

 

Louis’ gaze is on him now and his blue eyes narrow with concentration, perhaps trying to understand what Harry might be doing.

 

“Yes…Harry, is it?” Paul asks, his face curving upward as he smiles genially at Harry.

 

“Yeah um look, I need Louis Tomlinson to be my buddy,” he says, a touch desperately, “please.”

 

Paul raises an eyebrow.

 

“Kid’s a tough one,” he says, his eyes flicking across to Louis, “why’d you want him anyway?”

 

“Just think I can help,” Harry explains, “please.”

 

Paul shrugs, looking mystified and then turns to bellow out across the grass again.

 

“Sorry, my mistake. Harry, you’re with Louis Tomlinson. Greg, you’re with Irvine.”

Harry’s surprised Louis doesn’t go cross eyed with how hard he stares at Harry as Harry strides across the clearing toward him. Louis raises his eyebrows in question as Harry draws close, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Thought we enjoyed such scintillating conversation earlier, that you might prefer my company to Greg’s,” Harry says by way of explanation.

 

The corners of Louis’ mouth twitch just slightly, almost undetectably before he controls his expression. He sighs loudly, affecting irritation perhaps but it’s the most overt noise he’s made so far so Harry’s smile simply deepens as he trots after Louis who stomps off in the direction of the tents. 

 

The bags are all lying in the middle of the tents, piled upon each other but Louis’ and Harry’s happen to have ended up next to each other, much to Harry’s delight and they pull them free pretty quickly. Louis holds out an impatient hand, as if to say lead the way so Harry quickly locates them a tent on the edge of the campgrounds, close enough to both the toilets and Niall, Liam and Zayn who have all set up near each other. 

 

Louis enters the tent immediately but just as Harry makes to fall behind, Louis pushes him back with a firm hand against his chest, his sapphire blue eyes conveying a severe warning. Harry is confused for a moment, his eyebrows bunching together as Louis zips up the tent behind him and begins moving about. Yet it’s no more than a few moments later that Harry comprehends as he watches the outline of Louis’ jacket fall from his shoulders and stills completely as his shirt follows suit, Louis pulling it quickly over his head. Harry’s mouth parts with surprise. However it doesn’t take more than a moment for him to catch on. Louis clearly doesn’t like the communal setting of the bathroom. He must feel too vulnerable in there.

 

Harry knows he’s not technically doing anything wrong by watching. Surely, Louis would have been aware that he could trace his outline through the tent but still he knows he should tear his eyes away. The shadows created by Louis’ tiny waist and his defined biceps that are joined to those fragile looking wrists do funny things to Harry’s stomach and his throat feels awfully dry once again. Yet it’s only as Louis hooks his thumbs beneath his jeans and starts to slide them down that he finally forces his eyes away, turning his body in the opposite direction with a quiet gasp. Harry jumps as he finds Niall just leaving his tent, his eyes flicking quickly from Louis and Harry’s tent to Harry himself.

 

“Enjoying the view?” He asks with a smug grin.

 

Harry’s never been the overly macho type but suddenly he feels a protective growl building in his chest. 

 

“Don’t look,” he says with flashing green eyes, “don’t look at him.”

 

“Sorry,” Niall cackles, “I’ll leave that to you.”

 

Harry’s look is so vicious and so violent that Niall actually stops laughing, for once in his life, his blue eyes blown wide.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, stumbling off toward Liam’s tent.

 

When Harry turns around, shaking his head and muttering angrily to himself, Louis is standing there, donned in a thin navy blue shirt that finishes at his forearms and baby blue bottoms, his hair quite clearly ruffled from having pulled his clothes over his head. Harry can’t help but think he looks very cuddly and very distinct from the boy who had breathed angrily into his face earlier. However that boy returns as he holds up a hand, his eyebrows arching upward, seemingly saying, “Well…what are you waiting for?” So Harry quickly follows him into the tent, feeling less and less like the authoritarian figure that he’s supposed to be.

 

When Harry changes in the bathroom, he decides to spare Louis his usual nakedness, somehow sensing that his bare chest may come across as a bit of an affront to Louis’ own strict, no intimacy, and no interaction rule. So he pulls on a loose band t-shirt and some black pyjama pants that have large white stars printed across them and heads back to the tent, darkness cloaking him completely now. When he crawls into his spot on the right side of the tent, Louis is curled in on himself as tightly as you would imagine one could and is situated so far left of Harry, it looks like he’s worried about catching a disease. 

 

No, Harry reminds himself as he pulls his sleeping bag up under his chin, not afraid of disease but definitely afraid of something. Afraid of getting close to people. There’s something dark brewing beneath the surface of Louis’ demeanour and Harry’s determined to get to the bottom of it before this camp’s over. He falls asleep humming evermore softly into his pillow.

 

“ _I see you by the water, your toes dipped in the sand…._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

_Day Two_

When Harry awakens, the sleeping bag beside him is unzipped and empty and Louis’ pyjamas look like they’ve been flung rather carelessly in the corner. Did he get changed in here while Harry was sleeping? Harry feels a little flustered and perhaps just a tad frustrated that he’s always been such a deep sleeper. He chooses to ignore that side of it.

He stumbles drunkenly out of the tent, still half asleep and sees the bonfire over by the woods already alight and a familiar figure tending to it. When he reaches the fireside, Louis looks up with a curious glance as Harry scratches at a spot on his stomach, pulling his shirt up in the process. Louis’ eyes flit down to his stomach and then immediately jump back to the fire as he stokes the flames.

“What’ve you got a fire lit for? We make breakfast in the centre,” Harry says, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the warehouse.

Louis looks up from the flames with arched eyebrows and tightly sewn together lips, his blue eyes mocking as if to say, ‘I’m barely tolerating your stupidity right now’.

“Right, no speech. No harm in asking though,” Harry says cheerfully, seating himself none too gracefully on the slightly dampened ground, “maybe one of these days you’ll slip up and forget that you don’t talk to me. You certainly forget in your sleep.”

Louis looks down at him with barely concealed horror in those blue eyes which sparkle brilliantly with flecks of early morning sunlight. Harry can’t help the chuckle that breaks through.

“Just kidding. You didn’t say a word…or not that I heard anyway. I would love to hear your voice though. I imagine it sounds quite deep to make up for your height,” Harry teases.

Louis glares and then considers him for a moment, face twisted with indecision before he plucks a bag of marshmallows from the pocket of the purple hoodie that falls over his chest. He grabs a stick from the collection that Harry hadn’t noticed lying on the ground beside him next to his green jacket. The stick looks clean enough. He sticks the marshmallow in the flames and begins to twist it from side to side, his eyes narrowed with concentration. Somehow the lines in his face don’t corrupt the softness between those defined angles. Instead it’s almost as if he reveals another skin every time his expression changes. Harry finds himself transfixed by each minute detail, every single transition.

“Marshmallows for breakfast, huh?” He asks Louis, rhetorically of course, “very nutritious.”

Louis doesn’t meet his eyes but he does nod and Harry thinks there might just be a twinkle of humour forming in the corner of his eye as he cooks the sugary treat. When Louis pulls the toasted marshmallow away, he offers the stick to Harry. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up with confusion. Progress, he cheers inwardly as he reaches for the stick but both the marshmallow and his joy are snatched away as Louis pulls the stick back quickly, reversing it’s position and swallowing the marshmallow whole. This is followed by some chewing in a completely over exaggerated manner.

His eyes convey all sorts of emotions that Harry reaches out to catch, determined to understand each one; humour, triumph and maybe, excitement? He thrives on their banter-without-speech, does he? Well if this is the first step to a real conversation, Harry is on board, full steam ahead.

“Ah, punishment for the quip about your height,” Harry’s grin tugs loosely at the corners of his mouth, “sorry little Louis.”

Harry barks out a sharp laugh at the hot look of outrage on Louis’ face as his nostrils flare and his quiff seemingly trembles with the growing force of his anger.

“Your mediators…they tend to leave you alone when they realise you don’t talk, don’t they?” Harry asks, finding the answer in the lack of opposition in Louis’ expression, “well I’m a bit different. I’m gonna wear you down.”

With that, Harry jumps up from his position and saunters away, leaving Louis to his own devices. The guy does deserve some time to himself before everybody else gets up and Harry would really love a hot shower. It’s simply criminal though that while Harry is content to leave the boy to his own devices, his devices happen to involve bending over to reach for a new stick just as Harry heads for the showers. He cops a rather nice, rather indecent view of Louis’ jeans stretched obscenely tight over his arse. His bum should be bloody illegal. When Harry jumps in the shower feeling rather stiff, in more ways than one, he puts it down to morning wood and only just resists passing a hand across himself as the water cascades down around him.

…..

Harry seats himself down next to Niall and across from Liam in the centre an hour later, finding Zayn mysteriously absent.  
  
"Zayn?" He asks Liam.  
  
Liam looks kind of adorable in his dark green vest pulled over a blue and red flannel top with his short brown hair poking out from beneath a black and white Snapback.  
  
"Wait for it," Liam tells him, holding up a finger, "just listen."  
  
Harry tilts his head, straining his ears. The warehouse is pretty quiet this morning with everybody still adjusting to the early start that's required of them while on camp. Still, it's a few moments before Harry hears the ruckus going on outside.  
  
"Give me back the hair gel you little shit!"  
  
"Catch me if you can old man!"  
  
Harry feels a hint of the consternation on Liam's face but it's far too amusing. He caves to a chuckle while Niall cackles beside him, blue eyes glittering as he shoves another piece of bacon in his mouth.  
  
"He really should go easier on him," Liam tuts, shaking his head at his breakfast.  
  
Harry's smile curls around the edges of his mouth.  
  
"I saw how much product he wears in that hair of his yesterday. Can't say I'm surprised he'd react like this," Harry laughs.  
  
"He's also not a morning person," Liam frowns, "but he's going to have to bond with the kid eventually."  
  
Much to their disbelief, just as they’re finishing up breakfast, Zayn struts into the centre looking done up in dark jeans and a navy pea coat with plenty of gel in his air. Beside him is the little terror, looking a lot calmer and even smiling up at Zayn as Zayn gesticulates with his hands, clearly explaining something, his whole face animated. When they part ways, Zayn joins their table with a smug smile shining on his face.  
  
"Knew I could do it," he says, his teeth showing.  
  
"How?" Niall questions him, eyes wide with awe.  
  
"Kid likes superheroes and comics and stuff. Gave me back the gel as soon as I promised to show him my collection."  
  
Liam is bursting with pride, his eyes all aglow with admiration as he plants a hand on Zayn's chest and rests his head in the crook of his shoulder.  
  
"I knew you'd win him over," he assures him quietly.  
  
Zayn kisses his hair softly.  
  
"Same way I won you over," he whispers, voice husky.  
  
Harry and Niall glance at each other with slightly nervous expressions, feeling like they're witnessing something far too intimate. Of course it's Niall who disturbs the moment first.  
  
"Have you boys ever seen anybody eat five rashers of bacon and say…ten eggs?" He asks.  
  
Zayn and Liam look up with identical expressions of horror.  
  
"Please don't-"  
  
"Niall-"  
  
"You're about to see somethin' real special," he says, rubbing his stomach with relish.  
  
"And by special," Harry warns them, "he means absolutely disgusting."  
  
Niall's not listening though. He's already shoving the rest of his plate full of food in his mouth so he can go back for more. Harry shakes his head while Zayn and Liam's faces fill with mirth. Niall jumps up when he's done, throwing his arms wide.  
  
"I'm king of the world," he shouts.  
  
There's a low buzz of laughter among the occupants of the centre.  
  
"Okay Jack Dawson," Harry says between chuckles, "get me some juice while you're at it."  
  
Niall grins and then races off through the tables to the kitchen. Liam looks after him, a soft smile on his lips.  
  
"I'd love to have his energy."  
  
....

It turns out it’s Harry’s least favourite day of camp; sports day. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy sport in his own time, particularly watching it but in this setting, there’s too much ribbing and too many cracks about his sexuality when he inevitably screws up. Sure, none barring Niall and perhaps Zayn and Liam know he’s gay yet but it probably won’t be long until Niall lets it loose by accident. If he does badly today, there’s a chance that he’ll get the same comments about being a ‘fairy’ that he got back home from some of the homophobic jerks that happened to be on camp with him.

Harry changes into a white shirt with a matching long sleeved undershirt and black shorts, pulling a grey beanie down over his curls which ruffle in the breeze as he makes his way through the woods to the clearing where all the campers are gathered.  Paul is there yelling out instructions at everyone in that abrasive tone of his.

“Right lads, listen up. Today is perhaps the best day of a camp for young boys,” Harry snorts quietly, bloody stereotypes, “but we need you to keep your excitement contained and listen to your mediators. This year’s sport is,” Paul pauses dramatically, “footie!”

A loud cheer rises up out of the crowd and Niall’s eyes light up where he stands just to the left of Paul. He truly does love sports day.

“Now it’s mediators versus their buddies,” the younger boys groan collectively, “but the mediators are gonna play with half the amount of people to make the match a little more interesting. They’ll have subs.”

“Now,” Paul claps his hands together, “has anyone seen Louis?”

There’s a few shakes of the head and then Paul sighs, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll go get him,” he says, loud as ever despite seemingly speaking only to himself, “clearly doesn’t know that we’re playing footie today.”

When Louis walks onto the pitch, well it’s more of clearing than anything, Harry’s pretending to stretch out his muscles even though he has no bloody idea what he’s doing. He stills however, his leg falling from its position on the boulder when Louis stalks by in tiny black shorts and a white shirt that stretches tight across his pectorals. The boy dumps his green jacket at the edge of the clearing and then starts doing lunges, stretching out his muscles for real. The way his shorts frame his arse and the way his tendons stretch, revealing how truly ripped he is, is more than a little distracting. Harry means to go find Niall but instead finds himself walking over to Louis, flashing him a little wave that the boy ignores…of course.

“With my knowledge and understanding of the game, I feel like I should be a lot better at football.”

Louis stops lunging and turns to meet his eyes, looking far less removed from the world than he has in the short time Harry’s known him. His lips quirk briefly and then he sweeps a hand downward through the air, motioning at Harry’s getup or perhaps his figure. Whatever he’s motioning at, the message in his amused, blue eyes is clear, “you weren’t made for sports.”  Oh and doesn’t Harry know it.

“Is that…” Harry pauses, hooking a finger around his chin contemplatively before pointing it in Louis’ direction, “is that amusement in your eyes?”

Louis’ lips are quivering now, his eyes dancing, spilling out blue streams of warm fire in Harry’s direction. There’s not quite a smile on his pursed lips but his mouth is held so tightly together, Harry can sense it sitting there behind his rapidly dissolving composure.

“Never fear Louis Tomlinson. My team will wipe the floor with yours,” Harry says with a theatrical tone, “…even with my lack of skills working against them.”

Louis rolls his eyes now, as if Harry’s attempt at humour is wearying but Harry’s not too deterred. The corners of his mouth are still twisted upward against his will.

….

Harry feels his spirits dropping quickly as he races…or attempts to race, around the clearing, his legs becoming tangled one too many times, his every kick of the ball ending with the thing rocketing off into the trees and breaking a couple of branches in the process. Every time this happens, he finds Louis’ eyes on him, the same ever present amusement building throughout the game.

Harry is mesmerised when after a little blonde haired, blue eyed boy, Benji, misses the ball completely twice in a row, Louis bends down beside him. He positions the boy’s waist so he’s facing the ball more directly and then wraps his hand around his leg, swinging it out towards the ball to show him how to kick. The boy giggles as Louis’ fingers dig into his side, tickling and then Louis whispers something in Benji’s ear that makes his eyes harden with determination.

It irks Harry a little that it seems only he and the other mediators are not privileged enough to hear Louis speak. Yet his annoyance fades completely as he watches Louis take Benji’s small hand within his own. He smiles encouragingly down at the kid, nodding his head as Benji kicks out and the ball goes flying towards his nearest teammate. Louis bends down and hi-5’s him before Benji runs off, giggling excitedly as his little legs carry his tiny body forward.

When Louis runs past him next, Harry flashes him a thumbs up. Louis doesn’t respond other than to shake his head as Harry’s feet tangle once more and he stumbles across the grass. Yet then with a loud sigh Louis doubles back, reaching out to grip Harry’s forearm and haul him to his feet. It catches Harry off guard and he mutters a quick, “thank you,” his heart thumping heavily against his rib cage. Harry makes to run off again but Louis pushes his palm up against the centre of his chest, stopping him where he stands and sending heat throughout his entire body, radiating outward from the point of contact.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks.

Louis lowers his eyes to Harry’s feet then raises them back up to his face, some kind of meaning locked within them that Harry can’t access. It’s unequivocally frustrating.

“Louis,” he sighs, “I can’t read your mind.”

Louis’ expression flickers with annoyance briefly and he sighs too, clearly irritated as he drops to the ground, looking up at Harry from beneath his lashes, his soft brown hair sweeping his forehead. The blue of his eyes is deadly, disorientating even.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks with a scrunched up look but Louis’ face doesn’t register the question.

He just reaches up and grips Harry’s side, twisting his whole body. Harry’s breath stutters as Louis wraps his other hand around his ankle, squeezing a touch too tight, almost as if he were punishing him as he brings his foot forward in a kicking motion. Oh. The problem is my feet… my footie skills. He’s helping me, Harry realises, feeling idiotic. He’s helping me like he helped Benji. Louis’ hand on his hip quickly burns through his top to the skin beneath so Harry pushes it away gently, pulling his foot from Louis’ grasp too.

“I got it,” he breathes, catching the boy’s eye, “thank you.”

Louis nods, averting his eyes but his expression seems a little dazed too. Or is Harry just imagining that? It’s impossible to tell as Louis stands and immediately runs off in the other direction, leaving Harry gazing a little wistfully after him.

….

It’s three quarters of the way through the match and it’s fairly even thanks to the mastery that is Louis Tomlinson. He’s set up just about every kid on the field with a shot at goal and has been giving his unique little kicking lesson throughout the game to all while still managing to score his team’s three goals to Harry’s team’s two. Harry’s on the bench (aka a patch of grass at the edge of the clearing) but he can see his teammates throwing frustrated looks Louis’ way as he steals the ball over and over again, his feet too deft and fast for many of them.

One of the beefier blokes, Nathan, looks positively livid as Louis foot darts between his legs, kicking the ball out and away from his feet. Louis’ dribbling the ball down the field, glancing Benji’s way and clearly preparing to pass to him when Nathan comes up from behind and kicks out hard, his shoe connecting with Louis foot and sending him tumbling to the ground, his ankle twisting horribly.

“Louis!” Harry calls out automatically, jumping to his feet.

Louis bends over his ankle, his face clenching slightly as Paul runs across the field and kneels beside him. Harry is beside them both almost instantly.

“Louis, are you okay?” Paul asks, his face lined with concern, “c’mon mate, I need you to tell me what hurts.”

“Does this hurt?” He questions, reaching out and gently pressing down on Louis’ ankle.

Louis flinches, drawing his leg away from Paul’s touch.

“Stop,” Harry tells him firmly, bending down beside Louis.

Paul looks at him curiously but they’re interrupted by the wide eyed kids gathering around them and asking insistent questions. When Harry looks up, he finds Nathan in the midst of them, sneering down at Louis who looks up at him with cold, blue eyes.

“We’ll talk later Nathan,” Paul says, a severe look on his face, “and the rest of you, get back to the game. Louis doesn’t need you all staring at him, does he?”

Once they’re alone again, Paul looks to Harry with a questioning glance.

“Can you carry him Harry? He shouldn’t walk on it. We need to get him to the first aid tent.”

Harry bobs his head.

“Whatever I can do to help.”

Louis seemingly objects to this as he pushes down hard on the ground and tries to straighten his ankle enough to stand, his blue eyes darkening with determination. However his ankle collapses beneath him and he ends up sprawled across the ground again, looking ridiculously outraged by this turn of events. Harry pushes him down gently before he can find the will to try again.

“Stop trying to be a hero,” he growls, “you’re bloody injured.”

Louis looks venomous but he just tears his eyes away from Harry and settles them on Paul, his expression quickly transitioning to pleading as he locks a hand around Paul’s wrist and then looks down at himself. Paul pulls his arm away.

“What?” Paul asks, completely nonplussed.

“He’d like you to carry him,” Harry says with gritted teeth, “instead of me.”

Paul rolls his eyes.

“Well too fucking bad Louis. I’ve got to watch over things here, you know that. I wouldn’t put it past Nathan to go after one of the young kids next. Might need to intervene,” Paul grunts, before placing a large, clammy hand down on Harry’s shoulder, “you take him mate,” Paul pushes Louis down now as he tries to rise once more, “whether he likes it or not.”

Paul gets to his feet, shouting obscenities at two of the mediators acting like idiots as he storms off in their direction. He leaves Harry kneeling by Louis’ side, trying to figure out the best way to do this. He tries at first to determine the least invasive way to touch him but then, looking at Louis’ stormy blue eyes, Harry’s sure he’d object even if he were to put gloves on first. So Harry makes no plans. He simply slides one hand around his waist and one beneath his knees and rocks him up and into his arms, making it to a standing position, just a touch unsteadily. Yet as he wraps his arms tighter around Louis’ body, he finds the boy’s weight isn’t much of a problem.

“Wrap your arm around my neck,” he orders Louis, who even with Harry’s tight grip, looks ready to roll out at any moment.

Louis sighs and it’s an angry puff of air but he obeys, slinging his arm around loosely. He winces as Harry takes a step and Harry immediately feels bad for it.

“You do eat, don’t you?” Harry asks, forcing his mouth up in a teasing smile despite his concern, “you don’t weigh much more than a feather.”

Harry rocks him a little to emphasise his point, careful not to disturb his ankle but Louis is looking around him, back towards the field. When Harry turns, he finds the object of his attention lying on the ground a few metres away next to Niall who’s just been subbed off.

“The jacket, really? Do I really have to go back for it?” Harry complains, “I need to get you to first aid now.”

But Louis pulls on the front of his shirt, his expression turning vulnerable as those blue eyes blink up at him, so childlike…so needy. It disarms Harry quicker than he’d care to admit. He can see the ‘please’ sitting just behind those pretty eyelashes of his. Harry huffs loudly but then doubles back to get the jacket, watching as Louis’ face goes weak with relief. It’s curious how attached he is to the damn thing.

“Niall,” Harry calls to the blonde boy, who bounces on his feet as he turns and then eyes them both with a raised eyebrow, “hand me the stupid jacket, would ya?”

Niall bends down to retrieve the thing obediently. Harry glances down and catches Louis’ glare as Louis pulls on his shirt again, this time much tighter, his tiny fist squeezed tight like a determined infant who just learned the grasping reflex. It would be quite cute if it weren’t for those eyes spitting blue flecks of acid his way.

“Sorry I insulted your precious jacket,” Harry says sarcastically, “no need to get stroppy with me.”

Louis continues to glare but then reaches out for the jacket that Niall presents him, flashing him a small smile because of course Niall is worthy of gratitude. Even though Harry is the one who’s fucking carrying him. Niall misses Louis’ smile though as he’s looking at Harry with confusion.

“What?”

“Stroppy? Mate he didn’t say a word,” Niall says, gesturing at Louis who smirks briefly, clearly finding this amusing.

“He didn’t have to!” Harry huffs and then spins on his heel, almost forgetting Louis in his arms.

“Where are you going?” Niall shouts after him as he walks quickly away.

“First aid. I’m sure as hell not carrying him around like this for fun,” he calls back.

Niall’s cackle is carried on the wind and Louis looks a little pissed, much to Harry’s delight. Yes, I can be an ass too, he thinks triumphantly.

When they reach the first aid tent, Harry lays him gently out on the tan stretcher that rests low to the ground and then inwardly sighs a little as Louis’ hand loosens on his neck.

“Stay,” Harry orders him, pointing a stiff finger his way.

But Louis looks different now, less defiant. His ankle must be hurting. His face is clenching with pain every few moments and he looks up at Harry with wide, blue eyes and nods woodenly. Harry searches around the cluttered table for a moment before he finally locates a hand towel. He douses it with water from a nearby bottle and then brings the damp towel back to Louis, bending down beside him. Louis half sits up, looking anxious but Harry pushes his chest back down.

“Don’t worry,” he says quietly, “I’m just going to wash it. I’ll leave the medical stuff to the nurse.”

Louis nods from his position lying down, apparently giving consent, so Harry gently wraps his hand around his shin. Louis’ leg pulls back a little, in shock at Harry’s cold fingers perhaps but then he lets out a quiet whimper and lets it fall back to its former position, clearly in too much pain to object to Harry’s touch.

Harry doesn’t speak as he cleans the mud off the swollen injury, just hums to himself with every gentle swipe of the cloth. He doesn’t realise his thumb has been rubbing soothing circles into Louis’ shin until he finishes wiping away the last of the dirt and looks up to find Louis resting on his elbows, his eyes intensely focused on Harry’s thumb. Harry quickly draws it away just as Eleanor bustles in, looking more like a model than a nurse dressed in a short pink crop top and tiny black shorts with her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun and tendrils falling around her face.

“Heard my favourite camper got injured,” she coos, voice saccharine sweet, “how are we Louis?”

Louis raises a hand to indicate his wellbeing but Harry can’t help but think that the smile on his face is less than genuine. It’s not twitching at the corners of his mouth and breaking through against his own will. It’s manufactured, pained even and something tells Harry it’s not because of his ankle.

“Right, well what lovely part of your lovely body got injured?” She asks, looking to him for the answer.

He uses his hand to gesture at his ankle beside which Harry kneels. Eleanor narrows her eyes as she takes in Harry, looking him up and down as though he were the dead vermin she found in the corner of her basement. She was clearly hoping to attend to Louis alone. Harry finds his own green eyes meeting her cold look with challenge. He’s not going anywhere. Not until he knows Louis is okay. Plus, he’s not leaving him alone with this predator who looks like she’d like to sink her red painted talons into him.

“And you are?” She says, her smile completely insincere.

“Harry Styles,” he answers her, friendly enough, “I just brought Louis in. I’m his mediator.”

“Really?” Her eyes scale up and down him again, “doesn’t look like you’d be able to carry him.”

Harry jumps at the opportunity. He raises an eyebrow at her, expression free of the dislike he feels inside.

“Are you implying he’s heavy?” He questions, tone innocent.

Her mouth, sticky with lip gloss, falls open a little and then her expression darkens but Harry feels weightless when he looks over and finds an actual grin on Louis’ face.

“Of course not. You’re tiny babe,” Eleanor assures Louis, patting his thigh far too high up for Harry’s liking, “so tiny.”

Harry can’t help but chuckle because she’s just digging herself a bigger hole. Louis does not like to be called little, tiny or any variation thereof. Harry feels a bit more relaxed leaving them alone now...especially since he plans on finding and asking the senior nurse to come oversee things and make sure Louis’ okay.

“I guess I’ll just leave you and little Louis to it,” Harry grins pointedly at Louis who looks a touch horrified at the thought, “hope you feel better mate.”

He pats Louis on the leg, in an appropriate, non-predatory way thank you very much and then departs the tent, already looking around for Mary, the plump, middle aged nurse who will take the best care of Louis.

…..

Louis walks into the centre that night at dinnertime while Harry is lined up to get his serve of pasta. His ankle is wrapped tightly in a bandage but other than that, he looks fairly normal. No limp, no wincing and Harry concludes it mustn’t have been too severe an injury. Well, truth be told, he had already checked with Maura that Louis was okay. However seeing it for himself is so much better.

Louis grabs a plastic bowl from the stack on the bench and then joins the end of the line. Harry’s eyes follow him the whole way there, quickly glancing away when Louis’ head turns in his direction.

“Oi,” a deep voice says from behind him now.

He turns around to find Nathan sneering at him, his dark, greasy hair pulled back in a bun, his green eyes glinting with menace.

“What do you want?” Harry says grimly, trying to force the anger back down.

He doesn’t fight with people. He is not that kind of guy. He especially doesn’t fight with people when there’s a warehouse full of kids who he’s trying to be a good role model for, in easy viewing distance.

“Just wanted to ask you why you bothered helping him,” Nathan says ‘him’ rather venomously, jabbing his thumb in the direction of Louis whose eyes are already on them and narrowed with suspicion, “he wasn’t giving the other kids a go. I did everybody a favour.”

Harry’s temperature rises, his lip curling with the dark feeling bubbling up his throat.

“What the hell are you talking about? He passed more than he scored. He gave them all tips. He was a fucking superstar out there today!” He retorts, eyes flashing.

Nathan snorts, his eyes flicking spitefully over to Louis as he raises his voice loud enough for the whole line of people to hear.

“I think he’d rather _fuck_ a footie player than play footie himself. Heard Eleanor was hitting on him all afternoon and he still didn’t say a fucking word. He’s a fairy mate, a fucking fairy. Probably fucking another fairy too,” Nathan yells, sniggering to himself now, clearly thinking he’s hit the jackpot as a few of his mates share his mirth.

Harry’s breathing so fast now that he feels a little light headed. His muscles are rigid beneath his skin for a moment before finally something pops within him and he grabs Nathan by his shirt pushing him up against the nearest wall, fists pulling on the edge of his shirt as the guy’s eyes go wide with fear.

“L….let me go,” he stutters, starting to struggle.

He’s beefier than Harry it’s true but it’s mostly fat and it’s not doing him much good. Harry stares him down, his Adam’s apple jumping as he fails to calm himself.

“Don’t you dare fucking talk about him that way, you homophobic ass,” he shouts, forgetting his surroundings, “you’ve got no idea what you’re talking about and even if you did, even if he was, what’s it to you? Jealous that he’d probably rather fuck Eleanor than you even if he was gay?”

Nathan swings out at him now but Harry catches his fist, squeezing his knuckles together until his face pales and he starts to whimper. That’s when a small, warm hand darts out and lands on Harry’s bicep, squeezing firmly. Harry looks to his side and is surprised to find Louis looking up at him with concerned blue eyes. Louis shakes his head, his eyes flicking sideways to Nathan and Harry gets the message, releasing him instantly.

It’s then that he realises that the whole room’s gone silent. Nathan spits on the ground beside Harry’s feet, his face clenched with anger but he doesn’t challenge him.

“Psycho,” he calls out bitterly, storming away and into the crowd of people who now resume their chattering, having witnessed the drama come to a close for the evening.

Louis’ staring at him so fixedly that Harry’s near tempted to reach up and check for food on his face…despite the fact that he hasn’t eaten. Louis’ changed from his sporting clothes into black jeans and a grey shirt and is swamped by his green jacket once more. He looks soft and not completely distant as he reaches up and tugs Harry’s beanie back into place, his fingers lingering for just a moment on the edge of a curl, a cautiousness to his movements that Harry finds completely endearing.

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry asks, catching his wrist as he goes to pull his arm away.

Louis doesn’t flinch this time, his eyes flying from Harry’s hand around his arm to his face, without any sign of disgust or anger. He nods but his eye twitches a little and Harry’s not sure it’s the whole truth. He rubs a thumb across the pulse point in his wrist.

“He’s a jerk. I don’t know about what he said,” Louis’ eyes go wide with panic and Harry rushes ahead with the rest of the sentence, “but I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to try and read it in your face. If you ever decide to give me any part of your story, I want it to be given freely. Okay?”

Louis tilts his head, just assessing him for a moment then holds his hand up flashing him a thumbs up sign, his face breaking into a wide smile. This one’s not twitching at the corners either but then, his eyes don’t say “I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than be here with you” like they seemed to say when he smiled at Eleanor.

It’s close mouthed, still slightly subdued but Harry sees embers of genuine appreciation, perhaps gratitude, burning in his eyes and it feels good. Day two and it already seems that he’s beginning to earn the boy’s trust. One step at a time. Harry holds his thumb up in reply, chuckling at their unique method of interacting.

“I guess this means you don’t think I’m a complete ass hat,” Harry says with a glimmer of hope, his dimples deepening as he grins.

Louis trills out a laugh at this. An actual laugh. It’s deep and scratchy sounding. Sexy…in a strange way. It’s music to Harry’s ears. Louis gains his composure again and shrugs, his lips pursed once more. Harry rolls his eyes.

“C’mon little Louis, let’s go get some dinner. After all, you’re _so_ tiny babe,” Harry says in a feminine voice, imitating Eleanor as he guides Louis back to the line with a hand pressed to his lower back.

He cheers inwardly as Louis doesn’t throw a look of protest his way. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, he quotes in his own head before shaking his head at his own random collection of assorted quotes. Louis does settle him with a pointed glare for the imitation of Eleanor and then stretches up on his tip toes, bringing his hand across from the top of his head to Harry’s to indicate the small difference in height. Harry grins, pulling him back down by the hip.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that when you’ve got a sore ankle. Besides…that’s cheating.”

Louis stops now at the middle of the line and Harry watches with confusion as he leans down to whisper in Benji’s ear. Benji’s face lights up as he nods excitedly and then Louis slips into the line in front of him. Harry’s mouth falls open.

“More cheating!”

Louis shrugs and then beckons him over. Harry goes of course, slipping in behind him. Louis turns to look at him with a quizzical expression and then grabs his arm, using it to tug him around and in front of himself. Harry almost falls in the process but Louis stills him with a hand to his hip, which he draws away as soon as Harry is standing upright before him. Harry turns back to him and finds him chewing on the edge of his sleeve, his eyes downcast.

“Thank you,” Harry says softly.

Louis’ lips twitch in the direction of the floor.

…..

When Harry crawls into the tent that night, Louis is once again curled into the very edge of the tent, looking seriously tense and uncomfortable. Harry just sighs and settles down into his own sleeping bag, starting to hum tonight’s bed time melody.

_“I’ll look after you,_

_And I’ll look after you.”_

It takes Harry a few moments to realise why his low hum sounds double timbered but when he does, he falls asleep with a soft, serene smile on his face. Louis hums along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are quite short chapters to start with simply because I hate to give too much too quickly. I'd like it to have the effect of a slow burn even if it might not really be a slow burn. Anyway let me know what you think please and stay tuned for the next chapter...it's one of my favourites. Some cutesy stuff to come :D   
> songs mentioned in this chapter...look after you by the fray :)   
> xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write so hopefully you enjoy it :) please leave feedback x

_Day Three_

Harry’s eyes creak open at an ungodly hour when even the birds have yet to begin their symphony. He rolls over, his curls slipping across his face and is confronted with the sight of a sleeping Louis. The boy must have turned over in his sleep and his face is unguarded, relaxed even, as his small chest rises with quiet breaths that simply seem too big for his body. His eyelashes sweep his cheekbones as his eyelids twitch a little in sleep. Harry smiles to himself as the boy scrunches his fist in his midnight blue sleeping bag, pulling it up over his chin. Harry doesn’t really think it through when he reaches out and pushes Louis’ feathered fringe away from his forehead gently. He jumps a little when Louis hand reaches up and knots their fingers together.

Harry feels guilt swarming beneath his chest. Louis’ clearly still fast asleep, his lips parting with each breath and Harry knows that if he were awake, they’d never be sharing this touch. They probably shouldn’t touch like this at all, not if Harry wants to keep a safe distance from the troubled boy. So he smooths a thumb across Louis’ knuckles and then carefully untangles their hands. Thankfully, there’s no sign of Louis waking.

….

When Harry makes it to his table that morning, it’s just Liam, chewing on some oats with a clear warning in his eyes.

“What’s that look for?” Harry asks, feeling instinctually defensive as he starts on his cornflakes.

Liam finishes his mouthful, dabbing at the milk gathered at the corners of his mouth with a serviette before looking down his nose at Harry like a disapproving librarian.

“What was that last night?” He says, his bushy eyebrows drawn low, “You got pretty worked up. Thought you were going to really hurt him.”

“I would never!” Harry insists, his green eyes bearing a plea, “I just thought he was acting like a tool. Somebody had to set him straight. No pun intended.”

Liam tilts his head, studying Harry’s expression.

“Because it was Louis?”

“Because I’m gay,” Harry exhales, “and I took offence.”

“Niall said…”

“Niall said what?”

 Niall plops himself down next to Harry, plate piled high with fried goods as usual.

“You said..,” Liam looks a little hesitant as he glances at Niall but he ploughs ahead anyway, “you said Harry doesn’t usually get aggressive.”

“Oh,” Niall glances at Harry warily, before slinging his arm across Harry’s shoulders, “no hard feelings Haz? I just thought it was curious that you looked ‘bout ready to knock his head off his shoulders because he said a few ignorant things about-“

“Louis Tomlinson,” Zayn finishes, sliding in next to Liam and winking at Harry, “Harry’s got a crush.”

“What is with everybody interrupting our conversation?” Liam grumbles, “Now he’s going to feel like he’s being ganged up on.”

Harry holds up a hand and waves it a little desperately.

“ _’He is_ right here Liam. Niall, I was perfectly in control…Nathan’s just a real arse and for once, I decided to take a stand. And Zayn, I do not have a crush. I’ve known the kid two days and besides, he’s my buddy. I’m supposed to help him deal with his problems, not become one.”

Harry’s tone is firm, his face rigid with quiet anger and the three boys look suitably chastised. However after a few moments, Liam opens his mouth again.

“Just…I just wanted to say, I know you think you can crack the case and open him up completely but maybe that’s just not within your control. I think that’s up to Louis,” he says earnestly.

“I know,” Harry’s voice is gruff, “I’m not saying I’ve got magic beans or potions or any kind of quick fix. I just happen to think that people might have given up too easily. He speaks to the kids, he must speak at home. It’s just us. It’s just anybody who tries to access that broken part of him.”

Harry pauses as his eyes travel across the room and spot Louis spoon feeding a giggling Benji who sits on his lap, pulling on the sleeve of the green jacket. It’s captivating to watch.

“I just think that if people stopped hacking at his barriers and just let them fall naturally…maybe he would trust us. Like you said, it’s up to him but the best way to show him it’s okay and that he can be open with himself and with us,” Harry looks up into Liam’s eyes, “is to prove to him that it’s not all he is; he’s not just some bet you win. He’s a real person. He’s got a spirit that moves in a different sphere to that pain. Whatever it is and whatever caused it, he’s more than his silence.”

Liam nods now and his mouth forms a tentative smile as he reaches across and grips Harry’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna make one hell of a counsellor mate.”

Niall claps him on the back, his face splitting into a grin now that the tension has slowly begun to seep away.

“Damn straight he will.”

Zayn twists his head, dark eyes glittering as he regards Harry.

“I’ll leave it alone…for now…but I still think you’d like to get down and dirty with-“

Liam smacks him across the back of the head and Zayn turns to him, looking betrayed.

“Did you just smack me?”

“You heard Harry. Louis is not just some bet and he shouldn’t be the butt of your jokes either Z. C’mon the kid’s got issues, stop being so insensitive,” Liam scolds.

Zayn rolls his eyes, his mouth pulled into a severe line and then he pushes away from the table, storming off with a dramatic flick of his leather jacket. Liam’s mouth pulls down at the corners in response.

“Better go deal with that,” he announces, jumping to his feet and hurrying after Zayn.

Niall shakes his head, still grinning and then spears an egg on his fork.

“Couples man,” he comments, “so much drama.”

…..

“It’s getting to know you day,” Harry says with exaggerated excitement, knocking his elbow against Louis’ side.

Louis turns to register his presence, his eyes dragging down Harry’s white shirt with black horizontal stripes and tight blue jeans. He ignores the comment, instead tapping on a stripe with a hint of a smile before flashing the thumbs up signal.

“You like stripes?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised.

Louis nods, his mouth still dancing between that uniform straight line and that characteristically precarious smile.

Harry pulls on Louis’ pinkish, red t-shirt.

“Stripes would suit you. You should wear them.”

Louis’ mouth definitely pulls up on one side this time, his cheek lifting as he nods, agreeing that he will? Or jusr that stripes suit him? It’s hard to decipher the messages on his face sometimes.

They’re gathered in the same clearing as yesterday, however today the weather is much darker and dreary, soft rain pattering down upon their shoulders as the clouds race towards each other. Paul looks up at the sky now with concern.

“Hmm might have to head back to the centre,” he calls out over the crowd, “but just before you do, I’ll explain your first activity. Today is getting to know you day as those of you who checked the whiteboard would know. So your first activity is to spend some time with your buddy or mediator and find out some key facts about each other and then you will report back on your findings to another pair.”

“We clear?” He shouts.

There’s a collective nod but Harry’s face is creased with confusion. He grabs Louis’ wrist and ignores the boy’s attempts to struggle out of his grasp, drawing him over to Paul as they march off back in the direction of the centre, the wind beginning to blow the rain sideways across the field.

“Paul,” Harry greets him, finally releasing Louis’ wrist who looks predictably annoyed.

“Yes Harry?”

“Just wondering how I’m supposed to go about this task. Bit of a challenge trying to get to know someone by reading their facial expressions,” he explains, gesturing at Louis.

“Well,” Paul chews on his lip for a moment before shrugging, “you’ll work it out. If you’re as good as Simon says you are, I’m sure you can come up with a strategy.”

“I’m not a bloody genius,” Harry says quietly after Paul strides ahead of him.

Louis doesn’t say a word of course but Harry feels like he’s got a pretty idea of his opinion on the matter.

“Yes I know, of course I’m not a bloody genius. I’m an insufferable idiot who doesn’t even know how to kick a football.”

Harry feels a tugging sensation in his hair and looks down to find a smirking Louis pulling on an errant curl that sticks out beneath his white beanie. Harry’s not certain if Louis’ trying to tell him he’s not insufferable or if he’s simply enjoying Harry’s frustration. The puzzle is quickly abandoned though because Louis darts away and through the crowd of people, finding Benji quickly. He scoops him up and throws him up into the air, catching him easily as Benji giggles and thumps his back in tandem.

“Louuuuuuis,” he whines between giggles as Louis tickles his sides.

Louis looks back over his shoulder, his eyes seeking Harry’s and he glows with joy. This time, Harry reads the message; stop the grumbling. Harry flashes him a thumbs up and Louis’ teeth break his lips for the first time in Harry’s presence before he turns back to Benji, planting a wet, loud kiss on the younger boy’s cheek. Harry feels like the green of his eyes might be melting into a pool of liquid emerald beneath his feet. He’s hopelessly fond of the interaction occurring before him and he can’t help the slow smile spreading across his face as he watches on.

When they get back to the centre, Harry drags Louis to his usual table and they sit across from each other, a space apart from Liam and his buddy Devon. The room immediately fills with noise as mediators and buddies alike begin to converse. Thankfully Paul runs over holding a small whiteboard and a marker.

“Use this,” he huffs, shoving it at Louis who takes it reluctantly, “you can use it to report on Harry.”

“And what about me? How do I get anything out of him?”

Paul’s glance is only cursory, truly uninterested.

“Just make do,” he mutters before disappearing in the hubbub again.

“Just make do,” Harry imitates grumpily.

He looks up curiously as the sound of the marker squeaking against the whiteboard carries across the table. Louis’ eyebrows are raised, a hint of a smile perched on his pretty mouth as he reveals the board to Harry.

_“Start talking curly”_

“My name is not curly. You do not get to call me that,” Harry grumbles, still sulking.

Louis just shrugs, smirking now and Harry realises he stands no chance of winning the argument so he sighs and then clasps his hands together, learning forward to stare directly into Louis’ syrupy blue eyes. The boy flinches a bit, clearly caught off guard.

“So do you want the basics or the interesting stuff?” Harry asks.

Louis swirls his hand through the air as if to indicate ‘everything.’ Harry nods, his eyes never straying far from Louis’ as he begins to talk and Louis wipes away his last message, marker now poised before the board, his eyes intent on Harry.

“I’m 22 years old. I actually live in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire and I’m studying to be a proper full time counsellor at uni.”

Harry pauses to give Louis some time to write but with just a few swipes of the marker, he’s done, revealing a new message to Harry.

“ _Why?”_

The curiosity flickering in those blue eyes is unexpected but welcome. It inspires a smile.

“I like helping people,” Harry says truthfully, his smile turning wry, “…as cheesy and predictable as that sounds. I guess they kind of fascinate me. You know there’s so many ways to interpret and I like that the answers are never really obvious and even when they are, even when you figure out one aspect of someone’s consciousness, there’s numerous other aspects to discover that interact with that one thing that you’ve worked out. It’s like all these different elements of a person combine to make this complex individual capable of so much and yet often limited by so much too.”

Louis’ hand rests upon the marker but he doesn’t pick it up now even though Harry is done speaking. His head nods almost unconsciously and his eyes stare directly through Harry’s to something beneath as if he were trying to inspect those very elements in Harry. It’s frightening. Harry’s not used to being the one under the microscope. He coughs now to break Louis’ gaze and the boy starts, his eyes widening before he bends over the whiteboard, writing a few dot points. Yet his jaw is rigid, his knuckles white and Harry can’t help but wonder at the reason for his stiffness.

“Louis,” Harry says softly when Louis finishes writing but doesn’t look up.

Louis eventually meets his eyes, his face a lot more closed off than before but Harry is as determined as always.

“Your turn to tell me something I think,” Harry announces.

Louis shakes his head, his expression tight.

“You don’t have to speak,” Harry assures him, “just let me ask you some things. You can ignore any questions you don’t want to answer. I won’t press for things if you don’t want me to.”

Louis nods now, still looking a little apprehensive but not altogether uncooperative.

“Okay, first question. Your family. Siblings?”

Louis nods, instantly relaxing. Clearly his family is not an issue.

“Younger or older?”

Louis points a thumb downward and then grabs his marker, looking down at the board with a frown as it’s already begun to fill with text about Harry so he grabs Harry’s large hand and holds it in his own, his thumb pressed into Harry’s palm. It sends a tiny shock through Harry’s arm that he ignores. Louis presses the felt tip of the marker to his hand which tickles a little but as Harry makes to move his hand away, Louis tightens his grip preventing it. When Louis pulls away, Harry’s palm bears some small, cursive writing.

_“5 sisters, 1 brother, 2 sets of twins.”_

“Two sets?” Harry asks incredulously and Louis grins, showing his teeth, “home must be a bit chaotic.”

Louis merely shrugs then pulls Harry’s hand back, adding another sentence.

_“I like little kids. I like taking care of them.”_

Harry’s not sure the slow smile spreading across his face is even voluntary.

“I see. I should have guessed…you’re great with Benji and the rest of the boys. Is that something you’d like to do next year? What are your plans? Study, work or something else? Travel maybe?”

Harry’s words come a little faster than usual, his tone a little more insistent as he reflexively clutches at this brief moment of open interaction between himself and Louis. Louis tilts his head, chewing on the side of his mouth with a little furrow between his eyebrows as he considers his response. After a moment of careful deliberation, he records it on Harry’s hand, the words spreading slowly up his arm now.

_“I’m going to study youth work”_

This surprises Harry and he tilts his head, examining Louis’ slightly guarded expression.

“Why?”

Louis shakes his head, his eyes on the table but the pain in his clenched face is so immense that Harry doesn’t even need to glimpse his eyes to know there’s more pain building behind them.

“Bad question?” Harry says.

He doesn’t notice his fingers rubbing across Louis’ soothingly until Louis looks up, his gaze locked on their hands. Harry pulls his hand away immediately. Boundaries. Louis has boundaries…right and Harry should have more. Louis nods in reply to Harry’s question but his eyes dart down to Harry’s hand immediately afterwards, a hint of puzzlement still present. Harry tries to divert his attention away.

“Right, back to me for a bit then. My family’s a little less chaotic,” Harry explains with a soft smile, “just my mum, Robin and my sister Gem. Parents separated when I was young.”

Louis initiates the touch this time without much delay, his small hand gripping Harry’s forearm for a moment before he lets go but Harry reads the question in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he assures him, “it was a long time ago now. My family and I are happy. My mum’s very proud of me for doing what I do.”

Louis’ lips are painted with a rather secretive smile as he writes upon Harry’s hand once more.

“ _She should be”_

Harry raises an eyebrow, his dimples lifting with his own goofy smile.

“You’re being awfully nice all of a sudden.”

Louis shrugs and then bends over the whiteboard, scribbling a few more notes.

“What do you like to do Louis? What are your hobbies?” Harry asks in a gentle tone, suddenly intrigued by the boy’s habits, his pastimes.

Louis looks up and seems oddly touched by the question, his hand rising up to grip the side of his neck as he tilts his head, just gazing at Harry with a strangely intense emotion blooming beneath his half lidded eyes. This time he takes Harry’s hand very slowly, rubbing a thumb softly across the insides of his knuckles as he writes up the side of his hand and along his forearm.

_“Playing footie, watching friends (the show), playing with the babies.”_

Harry’s just about to open his mouth when Louis takes to his hand again.

_“I used to like piano.”_

“You don’t anymore?” Harry replies watching as Louis’ composure slips, his eyes drooping down at the corners.

He shakes his head vigorously and Harry gets the sense that he’s trying to shake away a memory, a ghost perhaps. He doesn’t offer anymore, just gestures to Harry instead.

“Me?” Harry bites his lip and Louis’ eyes track the motion, “I like my job. I work at a bakery.”

Louis scoffs at this, the marker traveling quickly over the whiteboard before him.

“What?” Harry questions, “What’s wrong with that?”

Louis just shakes his head as he writes, teeth exposed in a wide set grin.

“Um…I also like watching friends…the show. I play guitar, sing a bit. I like,” Harry pauses now for dramatic effect, his lips pulling back in a huge grin, “knitting.”

Louis’ laugh is loud and unfiltered, his head falling back to expose the long, lovely column of his throat to an inwardly and outwardly glowing Harry who giggles delightedly. Louis shakes his head still chuckling and makes another note on his board.

“Okay kids, you’ve got a few minutes to finish up your questioning and then it’s time to pair up with another pair!” Paul shouts.

“I’m gay,” Harry suddenly blurts and Louis’ eyes harden a little as he stares, seemingly unfocused, just past Harry’s head.

“I’m sorry if,” Harry’s throat feels thick and the words sound sluggish, too deep, “if it’s a problem…if it makes you uncomfortable like sleeping in a tent…not that I’m attracted to…not that I…I’m sorry that I-“

Louis rises up out of his chair and Harry’s eyes prick as he waits for the inevitable walk out but instead Louis covers Harry’s mouth with his hand. His expression is hard to describe, like a façade of calm and control behind which something else is brewing. Yet what that is, Harry can’t tell so he lets it go, wrapping a hand around Louis’ wrist and removing his hand, his awkward apology dying on his lips.

Louis sits back down but leans forward once more and though his eyes betray a little uncertainty, his pointer finger taps determinedly against Harry’s mouth drawing his bottom lip down unintentionally. Harry is caught between amazement and chaos. He barely registers it as Louis writes upon his hand again. It’s only when Louis presses on his wrist to get his attention, that he finally reads the words.

“ _Don’t let the mouth apologise for expressions of self we cannot change – LT”_

Harry’s gaze lingers on the word ‘we’ for a moment but his brain is a whirl of sensations caused by one Louis Tomlinson and he disregards it quickly, looking up at this new philosopher with a question in his gaze.

“LT? Louis Tomlinson,” he surmises with an amused quirk of his lips, “so there’s wonderful words in here after all.”

Harry reaches up to knock his fist against the side of Louis’ head and Louis’ own mouth quirks up in response as he shrugs, fireflies lighting up his eyes as they dance within.

“Thank you,” Harry says more seriously, letting his smile dim somewhat, “thank you Louis Tomlinson.”

Another quickly inscribed message on his hand, which looks like a cheat sheet for an exam at this point.

“ _My pleasure, Harry Styles”_

They share a kind of co-conspirators smile, the kind of smile you might find among newly formed friends or those who share a key belief, the kind of smile that marks the beginning of a new kind of understanding between two people. Of course, that’s when they’re asked to find another pair to share with and Harry reluctantly pulls his eyes away from the boy with the leaky smile and the mouth that won’t obey his request to stay horizontal.

…..

"Are you ready?" Harry asks, a light hearted kind of joy spreading over his features.

Louis nods, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Harry's not sure how he knows but he feels the sincerity behind those crinkles. He senses a history of laughter and boyish mischief beneath them.  
  
"Okay boys, listen up," Paul says sternly as the crowd in the centre finally quietens down, "you know you've got to guess the three foods your partner feeds you but I just wanted to make sure you knew that you can eat the leftovers. However, there will be a culinary task this afternoon that you might want to save yourself for. Choose wisely."  
  
Louis' face darkens at the mention of the culinary task which Harry finds curious. His mouth twitches at Louis as he raises an eyebrow but Louis shakes his head, maintaining silence even as that smile he can't escape moulds his mouth.  
  
"Shall we get started kind sir?"  
  
Louis' reaction to this is twofold. His eyes crinkle once more, warmth bursting forth out of his eyes so determinedly, Harry swears Louis must have a direct line to the sun. Yet he rolls his eyes, trying to appear above it all. It amuses Harry and he giggles a little girlishly which draws another reluctant smile out of Louis.  
  
" _Lettuce begin_ ," Louis writes on his whiteboard.  
  
Harry closes a fist over his mouth as his laughter shoots out of him in loud spikes that rise up over the sounds of chatter. Louis looks quietly pleased.  
  
" _Just for you. Seemed to your taste. I don't do bad jokes."_  
  
Harry tries not to feel anything at the words "just for you." He's known this boy a couple of days...why does it feel like he's speeding toward a cliff he won't be able to help falling off?  
  
"Close your eyes," Harry orders Louis now but Louis hesitates so Harry wraps a hand around his wrist and squeezes, "please....trust me."  
  
Harry's quite sure he's got the coquettish look down pat as he looks up at Louis from beneath his eyelashes. Still, he doesn't expect any response. However Louis' pupils dilate slightly and then he lightly closes his eyes, his eyelashes gently dusting his cheeks as they twitch.  
  
Harry looks beneath the red cloth covering his tray and finds strawberries, chocolate mousse packaged in a little yoghurt cup and a slice of bread. Start small, he thinks to himself, plucking the strawberry off the plate. He holds it between his fingers and then pushes it against Louis’ mouth, feeling a little relieved to note that his staring at Louis’ mouth is socially acceptable in this context.

“Open up sweetheart,” Harry says in his ‘baby-talk’ tone.

Louis snorts in response but his lips part against the strawberry and his mouth closes over it. Thanks to the clumsy positioning of Harry’s fingers on the piece of fruit and the distracting visual of Louis’ mouth sucking on the strawberry, Harry starts as Louis lips make contact with his fingers. He pulls his hand away quickly and Louis sucks the whole thing into his mouth, looking wholly unaffected. He swallows and Harry watches the strawberry slide down his long, olive toned throat and is still staring when Louis opens his eyes and begins to write on the whiteboard.

“ _Strawberry”_

“Very good monsieur,” Harry says in a bogus French accent.

Louis wrinkles his nose, clearly not impressed.

“Next one,” Harry chirps, trying to distract Louis from his embarrassing imitation.

Louis’ smile curls around his mouth like he knows exactly what Harry’s doing but he closes his eyes anyway. He again manages to correctly identify the item, the bread, this time without any interference from Harry’s fingers and then it’s on to the chocolate mousse. Harry sails the spoon towards Louis’ mouth and Louis slides his mouth over it, managing to flick some of the chocolate across his own face in the process. God knows how. When he opens his eyes, they’re a deep contented blue.

“ _Chocolate mousse. Perfect.”_ He writes.

“Correct,” Harry’s lips curve subtly, “but um…were you planning on saving some for later?”

Louis eyebrows draw together with confusion and Harry smiles more broadly, reaching up to gently wipe at the corner of Louis’ mouth with his thumb, his stomaching tangling itself up in knots as Louis’ eyes darken almost imperceptibly. Harry is close enough to spot it. He sees the small embers of flaming ash floating down toward the bottom of those eyes that are fastened so tightly on his own.

“You’ve got some on the other side too,” Harry says more softly, an unwelcome huskiness to his tone.

Louis catches Harry’s hand as he moves to wipe at the other corner of his mouth and holds onto it tightly as he lowers his eyelids just slightly.  Enough so that his dark eyelashes contrast with the searing blue of his eyes that heat Harry’s skin and cut right through to his bones. Then Louis’ tongue darts out and he licks the chocolate away before drawing his tongue back into his mouth. Yet not before dragging it achingly slow across his bottom lip. It’s hard to determine whether it’s intentional because he releases Harry’s hand immediately afterwards. Louis leans back and Harry is left with buzzing thoughts and buzzing skin. Suffice to say he spends lunchtime, playing with his food, trying to muddle out his mess of a brain.

……

“Okay so we have to bake a cake. Right up my alley,” Harry mutters, mostly to himself before looking up at Louis and raising his voice “have you ever baked before?”

They’re standing before a long silver bench that extends the length of the warehouse which is where meals are prepared. There’s buddies and mediators poised at each bench, staring fixedly down at recipes or pouring different ingredients into their mixing bowl as they chatter at each other. Each segment of the bench houses its own oven built into the side and a cupboard containing a random assortment of kitchen supplies. Paul had supplied them each with some basic ingredients to make a cake and had basically told them to go wild…well not too wild…and basically just spend some time together. The emphasis with camp is on therapy through togetherness more than it is therapy through traditional techniques. Harry sees the value of both but baking a cake with Louis is certainly preferable to trying to get answers out of him at this point in time.

Louis nods but his eyes betray him. He looks extremely uncertain.

“Are you sure about that?” Harry challenges, smirking a little.

Louis’ eyes flash dangerously so Harry holds his hands up, backing away from both the bowl and the furious boy.

“Okay, okay…sorry I asked. Well do you want to put the flour in while I go get the eggs from the fridge, my lovely assistant?”

Louis’ got his board lying down on the bench. He picks it up now and scribbles upon it violently.

_“Assistant?!”_

“Lovely assistant,” Harry corrects, “Lovely Louis.”

Now Harry’s just making a fool of himself, smiling like a dimpled idiot as Louis narrows his eyes with suspicion, assuming Harry must be making a mockery of him. Sadly, Harry’s completely sincere.

“I’ll be back,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the fridge.

When he returns, it’s to the sight of Louis chewing his bottom lip and pacing. Harry stops him with a hand to his wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

Louis jabs a thumb at the bowl and when Harry looks down into it, he finds a bucket load of flour.

“Did you even read the recipe or did you just dump the whole damn packet in?” Harry demands.

Louis blinks up at him with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ll take that to mean the latter,” Harry huffs.

Then he shakes his head, trying to dissolve his own vexation.

“It’s fine,” he assures him, grabbing the bowl and pouring a little of the flour out into the waste basket beside them, “see, no harm done.”

Harry begins cracking eggs into the bowl in silence but Louis wraps a hand around the inside of his elbow and squeezes. When Harry obeys his request, looking over at him, he finds his face is pinched with tension, his expression contrite. Those damn blue eyes shine up at Harry, all droopy like a puppy that’s just been kicked.

“Yeah I know. It’s okay Lou.”

Louis eyes pop at the nickname and Harry feels like it might be best if he swallowed his tongue. Where did that come from? He pretends as though it didn’t happen, returning to his task and eventually Louis’ hand slips away but the silence persists. It’s only when it’s time to add the food colouring that Harry turns to Louis once more and finds his eyes rather intensely examining him.

“Okay I’m going to go get the cake tin and the baking paper. I’m going to leave you to put the food colouring in. Choose whatever colour you want. Just don’t put too much in…okay?” Harry says in a stern tone.

Louis nods eagerly, looking so determined to succeed that it softens Harry just a little. He touches Louis’ back briefly as he passes and they share a smile before Harry stalks off to find the materials they need. This time when he returns, Louis’ just looking down at the bowl in horror and biting on the edge of his sleeve. Harry lets the tin and the baking paper fall onto the bench and then pulls Louis’ sleeve from his mouth before reluctantly examining the contents of the bowl. It’s fire engine red and basically a gluggy mess.

“Louis,” Harry bursts out angrily, “what did you do?”

Louis’ hands move in opposite directions, his eyes wide as he tries to explain with gestures but Harry gets frustrated and stills his hands with his own.

“I don’t understand you. Write it down.”

Louis’ mouth pulls down at the corners and he stares at Harry for a moment longer before he takes to the board.

_“I put too much food colouring in. It was too much liquid. So I added some more flour. It didn’t fix it.”_

Harry reads the message, shaking his head with annoyance and then Louis scrubs it out with his sleeve, writing a new one.

“ _Sorry Harry”_

It’s this that tugs at Harry’s heart strings and makes him swallow hard as remorse for his outburst blocks his throat.

“Let me ask you again,” he says quietly, using his finger to tilt Louis head in his direction as Louis refuses to look up, “have you ever baked before Louis?”

Louis nods, dislodging Harry’s hand from beneath his chin. Harry’s face creases momentarily but then understanding lightens his expression.

“Okay,” Harry concedes, grabbing Louis’ elbow and squeezing softly now, “but have you ever _successfully_ baked anything?”

Louis doesn’t react for a moment, just staring into Harry’s eyes with a strange kind of blankness but then slowly with stubbornness burning in his eyes, he shakes his head. Harry stares him down for no more than a few seconds before his mouth pulls into a dopey grin and he begins to laugh. It isn’t long before Louis joins him and their eyes meet, Louis’ laugh crinkling his eyes further in response while Harry rests a supportive hand upon the bench. When their laughter finally dies down, Louis looks over at the bowl, twisting his head with consideration.

“Wondering what to do with it?” Harry guesses, “I’m not exactly sure. We definitely aren’t using it. A baker you are not, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis glares at Harry and Harry laughs delightedly. It’s a bad move because the next thing he knows, Louis’ dug his hand in to the gluggy mixture and is rubbing it all over Harry’s face.

“I’m gonna get you for that,” Harry threatens, murder in his tone as loose bits of flour fall from his cheeks.

Yet Louis eyes are like camera flashes lighting up a dark room, like sparks of a firework shooting off light in different directions and it’s almost worth a face full of cake mixture just to watch them.

Harry reads the phrase within them. _Come get me_. So he digs his own hand into the bowl and chases after Louis whose laughter bounces off the walls as they dart through the tables, oblivious to everything going on around them. Eventually Harry has Louis cornered, backing him up against a table in the right hand corner of the room. Louis bends himself back against it, holding up his hands in defence, an ear splitting grin still curving his cheek bones.

“It’s not as if you’re going to beg for mercy, are you?” Harry teases, drawing closer, “Louis Tomlinson, finally paying for his crimes against cakes.”

Louis giggles at this, actually giggles and Harry loses himself. He grabs Louis around the waist with one arm and then runs his hand covered in cake mixture through the top of Louis hair. Louis struggles against him but it’s too late.

“You look quite good with cake in your hair,” Harry swipes his finger through the mixture at the ends of Louis’ hair and sucks it into his mouth, “hmmm….doesn’t taste as awful as you’d expect.”

Louis considers his next move and Harry’s just waiting, preparing for battle. Then Louis grabs Harry’s cake encrusted finger and brings it to his mouth. Harry cocks his head to one side, confused as he watches on but then his every thought vanishes as Louis takes his finger deep into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it. He sucks at it for a moment before letting it slide out with a loud pop. He swipes his tongue across his lip, getting the last traces of cake and then flashes Harry what’s quickly becoming their own little signal, the thumbs up. His eyes are like two shots of pure, golden triumph but Harry’s stomach is all a jumble. That’s when Harry glances sideways and finds a whole room full of people staring at them.

“Are you quite finished boys?” Paul bellows, hands on hips.

Harry supposes Louis had been giggling quite loud and chasing each other through the empty portion of the room was bound to attract attention. Louis shrugs at Paul as if to say, “It is what it is” and Harry almost calls out “what he said” before he realises that not everybody’s as focused on learning the language of Louis as he is.

“Sir, yes sir,” Harry calls out instead in another poor imitation, this time of an American accent.

However Louis does look impressed this time, his blue eyes glinting as he looks at Harry with a small smile. Harry gets the feeling it’s more to do with the slight hint of sass rather than his proficiency with accents. They walk back to their station, hands brushing occasionally by accident, sending white hot spikes of electricity throughout Harry’s whole system. So of course Harry spends the rest of day/evening asking himself what on earth is going on and wondering how best to prevent it from going any further.

_Day Four_

Harry wakes as something hard lands on his chest. His eyes open, scratching painfully and he finds Louis wriggling about, his limbs flying out in different directions as his forehead creases and he whimpers in his sleep. The sight of distress on his face is disturbing and Harry is leaning over him momentarily, gripping his wrists to stop his arms moving as he calls his name.

“Louis,” he says insistently, “Louis wake up.”

Louis continues to toss his head about until Harry grips his cheeks within his hands, squeezing gently and then his eyes fly open as he seemingly chokes on his breath, a strangled noise rising up out of his throat. He breathes hot and heavy as Harry rubs his thumbs across his cheekbones, trying to soothe him but his blue eyes stretch wide like a deer caught in headlights and he looks like he’s ready to bolt.

“Louis, you’re okay. It’s okay. It was just a bad dream,” Harry says softly, removing his hands now.

Louis’ eyes are all off focus though and he rips his sleeping bag away, jumping up and scrambling out of the tent while Harry hurries after him. He makes to grab for Louis’ wrist but Louis’ too swift and he runs off into the darkness while Harry fumbles clumsily, still feeling half asleep.

“Louis!” Harry yells now, panic creeping into his tone as he chases after the boy whose lithe body disappears into the wooded area.

It can’t be anything earlier than 3 am, it’s still pitch black outside and Harry’s mind is full to the brim with images of Louis being attacked by something or falling down and getting injured. Yet he knows it’s a lost cause to chase after him now in the dark by himself so he unzips Niall’s tent and bends down next to him, shaking the boy’s shoulder.

“Nialler!”

Those bleary blue eyes creak open and then narrow.

“H, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Louis. He’s run off into the bloody woods and it’s dark out. He could fall into the river or get bitten by something or hell, just get hypothermia. It’s freezing, he doesn’t even have a jumper. What if something happens to him? Niall, I’m so worried and I need your help please-“

“Harry,” Niall cuts in, grabbing his bicep, “we’ll find him. Stop panicking, it’s not helping.”

“Right,” Harry nods a little jerkily, “right, of course we will.”

“Go wake up Zayn and Li, maybe a few of the other guys too. We’ll get a team together. There should be torches in the centre,” Niall suggests as he unzips his sleeping bag, pushing into Harry’s space.

Now Harry feels clearer headed. He spares Niall a grateful smile and then crawls out of the tent with purpose. However, it’s after hours of searching with torches sweeping along the brush and tangled greenery that he starts to lose hope, his throat thickening as he imagines Louis curled up somewhere in nothing but a t-shirt and some loose pants, shivering his way through the night…or worse, lying injured or dead in a ditch somewhere.

“We should go back Harry,” Zayn suggests, clamping a hand down on his shoulder, “we’re not going to find him like this. Best just wait for him to come back. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Harry whips around with a manic expression.

“And what if he’s not fine Zayn? What if something’s happened to him and we just leave him out here to fend for himself? He probably wouldn’t even call for help,” Harry says desperately, “he’d probably fucking die before he’d call for my help.”

It’s Liam who curls an arm around Harry’s waist and squeezes firmly, trying to bring him back to earth. It’s funny how familiar it feels; how it’s been only a few days but already Zayn and Liam feel like best friends and Louis…well Louis is a whole other story. It’s like camp exists in this different dimension of time where everything develops more quickly and every moment is more intense.

“Haz, listen to Zayn. I know why you’re worried. I’m worried too but I’m sure he’s just hiding out. You said he had a nightmare right? He’s probably just dealing with the fact that you witnessed that. It probably wasn’t something he was ready for you to see. I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Liam says gently.

Harry nods even as the lump in his throat aches.

“I just…I don’t like the thought of him…..I don’t know why but I-“

“You don’t have to explain Harry,” Liam intervenes, “he’s your buddy, of course you’re worried.”

Harry wishes that were true, that things were as simple as all that but it feels too much like the time his sister went out and stayed at some guy’s place and forgot to check in. He’d been a mess then too. He’s too close to this one. Far, far too close. So he lets the other boys drag him back to camp but he doesn’t go to sleep. No instead he waits by the fire that he lights, hoping that if….no, when Louis returns, he will come and sit by the fire and get warm. He even goes and fetches Louis’ green jacket from beside his sleeping bag in the tent knowing just how lost Louis must feel having left without it and planning on wrapping him in it when he returns.

Harry doesn’t mean to fall asleep but at some point, his head begins to droop into his hand where he sits on the ground and his red rimmed eyes fall shut. He awakens to the sound of someone’s feet crossing the ground beside him and when he looks up, he sees Louis hotfooting it back to the tent. Naturally, he stands, draping Louis’ jacket over his shoulder and follows. It’s morning now and the first innocent rays of sunlight have begun to streak over the earth. However the grass is still stiff with frost and Harry’s body feels similarly wooden after sitting in it for half the night, absorbing its cold frigidity.

“Louis,” Harry breathes, letting the relief colour his tone as he climbs into the tent.

Louis is looking through his stuff at the edge of the tent and doesn’t acknowledge Harry’s greeting, his back and shoulders stiff with tension.

“Are you looking for this?” Harry asks, waving the jacket around.

Louis turns, sets his eyes on the jacket and then rips it away from Harry, shoving his arms violently through the sleeves before laying down in his makeshift bed and rolling over into his predetermined corner. Harry feels a little taken aback.

“Louis,” he whispers, “Louis, are you okay? Can you just like give me the thumbs up to let me know you’re okay or thumbs down if you’re not? I just…you were gone all night. I was so worried about you,” Harry pauses but there’s only silence and the sounds of birds just beginning their early morning chatter, “Louis, please just give me something.”

Yet Louis refuses to respond and in fact, scoots his body even further away from Harry’s, curling more deeply in on himself as if protecting himself from Harry’s words. It’s as if he thinks Harry might be trying to hurt him even though all he’d like to do is the opposite; to heal him, to help him. Harry knows a lost cause when he sees one though so he just sighs and lets his tired eyes flutter closed once more as he lays down, trying not to wonder whether he’s really cut out to be a counsellor or if this is just the kind of effect he has on Louis.

 …..

Louis doesn’t talk to him all day. It’s arts and crafts day apparently and they’re given a bunch of mediums to choose from. Louis spends his time swirling paints around the page, basically just creating a mess of colour and Harry wonders belatedly if it mightn’t just be a reflection of his mental state. Either way, he can’t tell as Louis stares determinedly at the page even when Harry’s arm swipes his as they reach for the same colour.

Zayn shows off a little, painting one of the best in-action pictures of Batman that Harry has ever seen. However the real highlight of the day is when he finally reveals it to Liam who keeps trying to look over his shoulder and gets repeatedly blocked by Zayn’s arm.

“Is that…” Liam’s mouth quivers tellingly, “did you paint Batman?”

Zayn grins and thrusts the page at Liam.

“You like it?” He asks, teeth pointed, “it’s for you of course.”

Liam grasps Zayn’s hip, running a thumb over his hipbone.

“I love it.”

Zayn looks seriously pleased and he cups Liam’s chin with his hand, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. The look they share however, is full of future promise.

“You guys make me sick,” Harry complains, wincing at them from his seat at the table.

Louis’ hair brushes the edge of his paper as he cranes over his array of colour, still creating more swirls, more random patterns.

“In other words, you’re jealous,” Zayn surmises with a smirk.

Harry glares.

“Why would I be jealous? How do you know I haven’t got a boyfriend back home?”

Zayn’s eyes flicker sideways from Harry to Louis for a moment, his eyebrows shooting up for some indeterminable reason before he settles on Harry again.

“First, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Liam’s face falls at Zayn’s adamant tone, “second, maybe you do have a boyfriend at home,” his eyes flick sideways again, his mouth twitching this time, “but third even if you do, doesn’t mean you’re not jealous.”

Harry just rolls his eyes. Zayn and Liam head off, hands in each other’s back pockets as they scout out some food. When Harry reaches out for more paint, it seems from the corner of his eye that Louis’ head is tilted ever so subtly in his direction but when he turns his way, there’s no sign of any such thing.

…..

The next few days pass much the same way, with no eye contact from Louis and a complete retraction from the world on his part. He doesn’t engage Benji nor does he participate actively in any activities. It’s not until Sunday that Harry finally sees signs of his hardened exterior starting to dissipate.

It’s late Sunday night before bed and Harry can somehow sense Louis’ still awake despite the fact that he’s facing away and breathing very deeply, trying to mimic the sounds of deep sleep.

“Louis,” Harry says quietly, “I know you’ve been more distant again because of the whole nightmare debacle. I don’t know if it’s because of the way I touched you or just because you feel like I know more than I should but look, if it’s the first reason, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t mean to get all up in your personal space, I just wanted you to calm down. You were making these awful noises in your sleep…”

Louis’ deep breaths halt and his breath hitches instead and Harry feels enlivened because at least he’s getting a reaction.

“Which brings me to the second reason. If it’s because you feel like I know some private part of you…well I can’t apologise for what I witnessed but just so you know, you didn’t say anything in your sleep,” Harry feels a weight rise up and out of the tent as Louis bathes in the warmth of his relief, “and I can’t read your mind. I already knew you’d been through something. Nothing has changed Louis so why are we going backward in terms of progress? I thought maybe….maybe you were starting to get used to me before all this.”

Harry waits a total of five minutes, literally twiddling his thumbs atop his stomach as he looks up at the tan, pointed roof of the tent, wondering if he’ll get anything back at all. Eventually he turns on his side, feeling slightly disheartened. However it’s just as his limbs start to weaken and sleep starts to melt his defences that he feels a hand lightly squeeze his side. There’s no words to accompany the touch so Harry finds himself having to interpret. The warmth of those skinny fingers around his waist tells him Louis might just be trying to tell him that the cold war has ended. This tense time of silence and avoidant eyes might just be over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter again but seeing as I'm posting them quite rapidly, I hope you will forgive me!  
> Songs mentioned (which I would recommend listening to, to get the full effect): give in to me (by Leighton Meester and garret Hedlund) and wicked game (by Chris Isaak, although I listened to the James Vincent McMorrow live cover when I wrote)  
> Please leave comments. I genuinely get so excited and happy even when it's simply the same loyal people   
> xo

_Day Eight_

Harry walks into the bathroom when dawn is just breaking. His IPhone informs him it’s 5 am and his skin feels awfully dry as he yawns, scratching at the back of his neck, the towel slung over his shoulder shifting slightly with the movement. However Harry is not greeted with the silence he expected but is instead met with the sound of water streaming down one of the cubicles and quiet sobbing. When he knocks on the door however, concern creasing his face, the sound cuts off and all he hears is the sound of the cascading water.

An image flashes in Harry’s mind now; the bundle of covers that he’d assumed was Louis when he’d lurched from the tent. Yet now if he wonders if the sleeping bag hadn’t just been folded in on itself. There was a high pitched yet slightly husky tone to the sobbing and something about the hitches in those breaths just reached out and yanked Harry closer, the same way Louis seems to do without trying.

“Hello,” Harry calls out hesitantly, “….are you okay?”

The water cuts off and there’s just silence and the sound of shifting feet on the bathroom tiles.

“Louis?” Harry says now, “Louis, It’s just Harry.”

Harry doesn’t really expect Louis to respond nor face him so he makes to move past the shower cubicle but as he does so, the door creaks open and a warm, slightly moist hand clamps down across his bicep. When his eyes flick back, he’s sure his pupils melt from the burst of heat radiating out from within as he considers the vision before him.

Louis’ dark hair is slicked back with water that drips off the crest and down his tanned cheek. His blue eyes are innocent and wide as he looks up at Harry as if he were expecting some form of rejection or rebuff. He’s got his clothes tucked under one arm and he’s wrapped only in a short white towel that he holds together very stiffly. Harry’s mouth hangs open like a goldfish as he tries not to follow a drop of water as it leaks down the inside of Louis’ towel and then with an equal lack of success, attempts to avoid thinking about the path that it’s currently taking down his body.

“Are you okay?” He asks Louis, inwardly cursing at his tone.

It definitely sounds like he’s holding his breath….probably because he is. His chest feels tight with want he shouldn’t feel for the vulnerable boy in front of him.

Louis nods but he frowns anyway, gripping his towel a little tighter. Great, Harry observes, he can probably tell how bloody perverted I am. Yet Louis surprises him by sweeping his hand out behind him to gesture to the shower.

“Oh, you’re done?” Harry asks stupidly.

Louis’ face morphs from strained to amused, the skin around his eyes just scrunching slightly as his lips pull back to expose his teeth. He cocks his head to one side, looking Harry up and down twice before nodding with glittering eyes. Louis starts to walk away but Harry grabs his bicep this time, resisting the urge to groan as his muscles jump, pressing eagerly into Harry’s hand.

“Thank you Louis,” Harry murmurs.

Louis’ smile is brief but soft at the edges before he moves away and out of the bathroom, leaving Harry to his own personal crisis.

“Idiot,” he says aloud, smacking himself hard on the forehead before walking into the cubicle and turning the shower on.

…..

It’s a relaxed kind of day, no set activities and Harry ends up entertaining the majority of camp with a guitar and a few covers of popular songs. The kids clap along eagerly enough, singing the lyrics to the songs they know and some of the mediators even look impressed, especially Zayn and Liam who apparently have a keen interest in music too. Harry feels like a proper laidback muso with his pointed brown boots, tight jeans and characteristically strange patterned shirt that’s unbuttoned to reveal his chest tattoo.

Louis has spent the majority of the day holed up in the tent drinking tea and reading what appeared to Harry to be a biography about Cristiano Ronaldo. When he finally ventures out to the grassy area near the dormant bonfire where Harry and his audience are gathered, he looks sleepy and slightly less stand offish, swamped in a massive grey jumper that finishes somewhere near his knees and slightly darker coloured tracksuit pants. He’s got a burgundy beanie pulled down over his head, forcing his fringe to slightly shelter his eyes. Yet the blue peeks through the gaps and it’s that flicker of perhaps errant curiosity that draws Harry’s attention as Louis joins the back of the crowd. He’s cupping a large mug of steaming tea in his tiny hands that are swallowed up by the folds of his jumper. Harry has the strangest urge to jump down from his seat on the elevated rock, walk across the way and fold his sleeves up for him. Thankfully he manages to stifle it as he finishes off ‘torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia.

“The next one,” Harry calls out over the crowd as he kicks his legs against the rock, “is a song I really favoured when I went through a bit of a country stage. It’s called ‘give in to me.’”

Harry can’t really stop his eyes from seeking Louis’ who stare at him with thunderbolts of intensity. Harry just wishes he knew what kind of emotion they were trying to express; what peculiar message they’re currently sending.

 _I'm gonna wear you down_  
I'm gonna make you see  
I'm gonna get to you  
you’re gonna give in to me

 _I'm gonna start a fire_  
you’re gonna feel the heat  
I'm gonna burn for you  
you’re gonna melt for me

 _Come on, come on_  
into my arms  
Come on, come on  
Give in to me

 _You're gonna take my hand_  
Whisper the sweetest words  
And if you're ever sad  
I'll make you laugh  
I'll chase the hurt

 _My heart is set on you_  
I don't want no one else  
And if you don't want me  
I guess I'll be all by myself

 _Come on, come on_  
Into my arms  
Come on, come on (come on)  
Give in to me

 _I'll use my eyes to draw you in_  
until I'm under your skin  
I'll use my lips, I'll use my arms  
Come on, come on, come on  
Give in to me

“Give in to me,” Harry sings softly, a huskiness seeping through his tone as his eyes, purposely avoiding Louis prior to this moment, meet the blue sea rising up to swallow him whole, “give in to me.”

It’s a while later when he's packing his guitar into his case that a hand briefly crosses over Harry’s shoulder. When he turns, Louis pushes a deep blue mug into his hands warming them instantly.  
  
"Cold?" He mouths silently.  
  
Harry realises that he's pressing his hands rather tightly against the mug. He nods, curls flying backward against his face in the brisk wind. Louis’ lips do their signature twitch and he steps closer, boxing Harry in against his rock as he lifts his hands and rubs them quickly up and down Harry's arms. When he pulls them away, Harry feels colder than before.  
  
"Thank you," he says in a gruff voice that sounds nothing like his own.  
  
Louis doesn't step away from him despite the fact that their hips are now brushing rather intimately. Instead, he pulls a pink post it note from the pocket of his huge jumper. It reads " _come with me_." Harry raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Come with you where?" He questions, pushing into Louis just a little.  
  
Louis pushes back, shrugging delicately. Harry takes it to mean "wait and see."  
  
"Okay, well I assume you might want to go grab your green jacket," Louis nods, "so while you do that, I'm going to get some supplies in case you happen to leave me stranded somewhere and I have to fend for myself."  
  
Louis gives him a long look. _As if_ , his eyes read.  
  
"Okay, okay well stop crowding me so we can get out of here," Harry says, eyeing the point where their hips touch.  
  
Louis looks startled, his eyes flying down to their near conjoined bodies as a crease forms between his eyebrows, almost as if he'd had no knowledge of the fact that they were touching. He steps back, stumbling a little and then turns on his heel. Harry doesn't give himself time to ponder it, just shakes his head and then tramps off in search of food.  
  
....  
  
Louis takes his hand at first, a private glow to his eyes that bears a secret that Harry's yet to share. Eventually when Harry falls into step behind him, he lets go and Harry begins to steadily climb up the hill after him. It's hard to mask the sound of his little clumsy moments but he thinks he does pretty well and when they finally reach the top of the hill that overlooks camp, he's still alive so he counts that as a victory.  
  
He scrambles up onto the top of the hill and it's a breathtaking sight. A hint of afternoon sun is poking out of the cumbersome clouds and the grass is like a patchwork quilt of lighter and darker shades that reveal the peaks of tents and the roof of the centre. The trees dotting the land on the ground below them look like tiny spikes of greenery, the river running between them like an aqua coloured snake. It's magnificent to stand above it all. Louis is tucking a pen in his pocket just as Harry looks back at him. He presses another sticky note into Harry's palm.

“ _You like it?_ ”  
  
Louis looks apprehensive as he chews on the edges of his fingernails and Harry sighs exasperatedly, pulling Louis’ hand from his mouth and tucking it gently into his pocket, patting his wrist to make his point. Louis’ eyes flash with indignation but he keeps his hand there anyway.  
  
"Of course I like it," Harry says softly, "but I like that you felt comfortable bringing me here more. Is this where you came when you ran off then?"  
  
Louis nods and then pulls his sticky notes out, bending his knee and using it as something to lean on as he writes.  
  
" _I had a bad dream. Needed to sort my head out._ "  
  
Harry feels his concern for Louis' physical welfare warring with his desire to ensure his mind is calm and unburdened. He cups Louis' shoulder, his fingers trickling over his back.  
  
"Might I suggest that you wait until daylight to run off into the woods next time?"  
  
Louis looks at him sideways for a moment, assessing then nods, his expression open, perhaps even trusting.  
  
"Thank you," Harry whispers, letting his hand glide down to rest on Louis' lower back.

Harry’s always best conveyed things like this with touch. It’s not inappropriate…he’s totally in control of his hands around Louis. Louis smiles at him with a devilish spark jumping in his eye and Harry’s stomach turns a little which only worsens when Louis yanks him down onto the hill by his hand, the both of them landing awkwardly.

“Thank you for that,” Harry says sternly, keeping his dimples firmly in place.

Louis chuckles quietly and then bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly, feigning innocence. Harry looks away determinedly, grabbing the water from his pack and taking a long, deep pull. Louis stares at him, eyes collecting at his throat as he swallows. It's distracting and Harry splutters, choking on the last dribbles of water.

Louis' eyes widen and he leans forward, reaching around to hit Harry across the back, one hand cupped around his knee to ensure he doesn't fall onto Harry and Harry feels juvenile but his touch is not helping. He stops choking eventually as tears roll down his cheeks but his heart is jack rabbiting and Louis' hand is still gripping his knee too tightly. Harry shakes it off.  
  
"Thank you," he says again, this time with a scratchy voice.  
  
It seems like all he’s doing is thanking Louis today. Louis grins, reluctantly amused, even as he shakes his head. So Harry pulls him swiftly down into a lying position by the wrist without any warning. Louis just looks over at him with a questioning look. The ground is, after all, fairly cold but Louis' decently rugged up and Harry wrapped himself in a dark coat before they left.  
  
"Just thought the world might look nicer from here," Harry says with a lilting smile, gesturing to the small patches of blue that fight against the domineering clouds, "when you're looking at the sky, don't you ever just feel like you're having the whole universe and its beauty explained to you but like…you just don't have the ability to grasp it? It’s right there, you can feel it when you look up. It’s the weight of knowledge and meaning in the way the colours blend together, blue into grey or pink into orange and it’s just at the edges of your fingertips…but it’s still somehow out of reach.”  
  
Harry looks over at Louis whose right leg is thrown over his left, his knees locked together. His whole face is shifting between its resting bitch face and a brilliant smile as he gazes at Harry. Everything creases, twitching upward, from his eyes, to his cheeks, to that thin, baby pink mouth.  
  
"Is that a smile I see breaking through Louis Tomlinson?" Harry teases.  
  
Louis’ eyes narrow with indignation and he scribbles a note, ripping it off violently and sticking it to Harry's head. Harry’s laughter erupts out of him as he pulls it away and then peruses the contents.  
  
" _Was that a philosophical speech about clouds Harry Styles? That was bewilderment, not a smile._ "  
  
"Funny," Harry says, his eyes glowing deep green in the soft bluish light of the shadow cast by the cloud overhead, "could have sworn you enjoyed hearing my thoughts."  
  
Louis shrugs, his head knocking awkwardly against his shoulder. Harry takes it as permission to continue.  
  
"I don't really know what it is...it's not just the sky. It's trees, the grass," Harry's hand smooths over the ground beneath him, "the breeze. It's just this feeling I get when I'm out here like nothing can contain me. Like I'm somehow closer to those eternally elusive goals we all strive for."  
  
Louis sticks another note to his forehead in response.  
  
" _What eternally elusive goals?_ "  
  
"Oh you know, like to fall in love and to have someone fall in love with you. That's the main one anyway. I...” Harry sighs before continuing, "I've never really been in love. Not the way I want to be. I want to feel like all my nerve endings are on fire when we kiss and he won't need to do much more than that to thrill me. You know, like his lips will be the kind of thrill you get when you're speeding down a rollercoaster at warp speed and everything's flashing past you so fast, you can scarcely catch your breath let alone take stock of what's around you."  
  
Harry's caught up in the moment, tracing the lines of the clouds in the sky with his fingers stretched upward towards them.  
  
"When I'm with him, it will be like...like nothing else exists outside of us and nothing else has to. Like the whole world could implode and we'd be alright in our little bubble. That's what I want.”  
  
Harry knows there's a soft, breathy note to his voice but he doesn't regret revealing himself to Louis because something tells him that Louis won't judge him. His instincts prove correct after a moment of furious writing. Louis sticks two sticky notes to Harry's chest, his face giving nothing anyway.  
  
" _That's a lot to ask. Do you really think that kind of thing exists?_ "  
  
" _I don't blame you if you do. But how do you have such high hopes? Maybe people just get hurt over and over._ "  
  
Harry frowns at the writing for a moment and then puts the sticky notes on the grass, waits patiently for a moment and then watches as the wind picks up and carries them away down the hill. There just these tiny spots of colour dancing over the horizon but Harry hopes Louis hears the message he's screaming.  
  
"I don't know your past yet Louis and maybe I never will," Harry utters softly, eyes still tracing the path of the near invisible notes, "but I do know how hard it is to believe in anything when you've been through hell and back with no sign of intervention, no reprieve. I know that when the people you love get hurt, it's even worse because you just can't justify that. Sometimes you grow up in a world that demonstrates cruelty and a kind of dark reality you begin to absorb. I know that Louis."  
  
Louis' eyes bear the question, "so why challenge that?"  
  
"I just think," Harry pauses, gathering his thoughts, "that even though the world's not all butterflies and happy endings, you've got a shot at passion and happiness and love and all those vivid emotions that burn so bright if you let them in. And I think, I think people who shut them out can only do so for so long…”

He gives Louis a pointed look, his expression determined as he ploughs ahead now.

“I think maybe those people that get hurt or see hurt, those people who think it’s not possible don’t really understand the full capacity of love and closeness until it’s upon them. Like maybe love is just this force that just wraps itself around you and you don’t notice it changing you until it already has,” Louis arches an eyebrow, “yeah, I’m a songwriter in my spare time, forgive me the poetics. But I just think…maybe those people find themselves giving in without meaning to. Maybe that’s what love is. Maybe it never really asks permission.”

Louis looks pained by everything Harry’s saying.

“Let me…” Harry’s voice is gentle, a gentle melody that floats across the air between them, “let me sing you something.”

Louis’ expression clears and he nods, his blue eyes wide.

 _The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_ __  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you   
I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you 

__  
No I don't want to fall in love  
No I don't want to fall in love   
With you 

__  
What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way  
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you   
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way   
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you 

_And I don't want to fall in love_ __  
No I don't want to fall in love  
with you   
with you 

_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_ __  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
I'd never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you   
I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you 

_No I don't want to fall in love_ __  
No I don't want to fall in love  
with you   
with you 

Louis looks kind of hypnotised and he sits up, pulling Harry with him by the collar of his coat.

“Louis?”

Louis looks his way and his fingers stretch up and clutch the sides of Harry’s face. He just looks, just looks and looks and looks until Harry feels like he’s about to burn away to ash.

“Louis,” Harry says once more, this time half pleading.

Louis draws his hands away, his eyes flying far from Harry’s figure and without communication, they lie back down.

“Would you like to hear some more?” Harry’s voice rumbles in his chest as he talks.

Louis nods again, letting his head loll against his shoulder in Harry’s direction as he waits for Harry to sing once more. They wile away the hours like that, just two bodies bent slightly towards each other beneath the sky, sharing something so intimate despite being worlds apart. Louis shifts every now and then, his leg knocking against Harry’s, their feet eventually coming to rest against each other, toe to toe. Louis hums along to some of the tunes that Harry sings out and eventually evening begins to descend, that slither of sunlight fading as the sky darkens before them.

“We should probably get back to camp now,” Harry announces, pulling himself up.

Louis reaches up and pushes him back down by the chest. He shakes his head, the whites of his eyes extraordinarily bright in the encroaching darkness.

“You want to stay? Out here?” Harry asks incredulously.

Louis nods, his eyes reflecting that odd sincerity that seems to somehow say more than words could. We’ll freeze, Harry thinks. We’ll freeze or get eaten or something bad will happen. We are not staying, he concludes.

“We can stay,” he says softly because what else was going to come out of his mouth when those blue eyes penetrate his own so keenly, asking for something that only he can give in this moment?

Harry texts Niall to let him know and tells him to make sure Paul doesn’t notice their absence. He figures that with some cooperation from Zayn and Liam, he can think of something. So Harry and Louis lie stretched out beneath the stars, Harry switching between humming songs and talking about his best and worst childhood memories. Louis smiles intermittently but mostly just gazes at Harry, eventually twisting around to lie on his side, his dark hair meeting the grass in an interaction of colour that snares Harry’s senses completely.

When Louis’ eyes finally fall shut and he draws his arms close against his chest in a protective stance, that great big jumper making him appear smaller and more defenceless still, Harry finds himself looking across at the boy with a kind of hypnosis. Louis sighs quietly in his sleep and Harry enjoys the sound because it’s unconsciously contented. Eventually Harry’s own eyes get drowsy from roving over Louis’ features too many times and he loses the battle, sleep conducting his body to relax and to loosen.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to a strange sound, discovering using the flashlight on his phone that it’s Louis’ teeth chattering and that his hands are shivering where they rest curled against his chest. Harry’s mouth puckers with worry so he reaches over and pulls the edges of Louis’ sleeves down over his hands, holding them for a moment, simply to transfer warmth of course. Then he shrugs his jacket from his shoulders and drapes it over Louis’ sleeping form.

He’s awakened again many hours later when the sun begins to heat the backs of his eyelids and he lurches up with a groan. His jacket that he hadn’t noticed upon him falls into his lap as he rises and when he looks over at Louis to berate him for not accepting the jacket, there is no Louis, just an empty patch of grass. Harry sighs, disappointed but not altogether surprised. It seems as though every time Louis’ barriers come down for a moment, he exposes more than he’d like and then he feels he has to scramble to return to his version of normality. He scrambles to distance himself from Harry and everyone around him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the walking disasters out there...you, me and Harry are made of the same stuff x  
> P.s. FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED. Thank you lovelyy commenters...you genuinely make my life that much better xoxo

_Day Nine_

When Harry gets back to camp, the clouds that had been slowly ebbing away when he woke are completely gone and it seems that Paul has taken heed of this, gesturing gleefully up at the sky as he addresses the rowdy group of boys before him.

“We’re going on a hike,” he exclaims, his wide mouth exposing a grin, “so go grab some food, some good shoes and then let’s get this show on the road team.”

There are a few sniggers about Paul’s enthusiasm as Harry joins the pack and one of the sniggers is Niall. Although to be fair, Niall’s snigger is a more of a subdued cackle more than anything. He’s much too happy go lucky to snigger cruelly.

“Ni!” Harry greets him, slapping the boy’s behind hard.

Niall jumps forward, his head whipping backwards in shock before a slow, syrupy grin settles over his features.

“Well if it isn’t our young Romeo,” he says with arched eyebrows.

“Who’s Romeo?” Liam asks, popping his head over Niall’s shoulder.

Niall jabs his thumb in Harry’s direction and understanding lightens Liam’s brown eyes as Zayn hooks his head over Liam’s shoulder. It’s quite comical, the way they’re all lined up in front of him, Niall and the two floating heads, looking at him all gleefully like three of the seven dwarfs met with the sight of Snow White.

He knows which dwarfs they’d be instantly. Niall would be happy of course, his blue eyes lit up like Christmas trees 24/7.  Zayn would be sleepy (there hasn’t been one day yet where he’s woken up a second before he had to…except of course for when Louis went missing but Harry is not thinking about that) and Liam would be Doc, the leader and the one who tends to mix his words up. Hadn’t it been just the other day that they’d been painting and Liam had labelled his painting of a green fern-like looking plant ‘the furn’? Harry briefly considers that Louis might be a mix of dopey and bashful…mute (but not unintelligent) and just….sweet…in his silent, shy way. Sweet with Benji and sometimes very sweet with Harry when he forgets himself.

“Ah…I see,” Liam nods his agreement.

“What on earth are you on about?” Harry huffs and Niall’s grin widens further.

Zayn’s smile is more of a smirk than anything as he leans forwards and taps Harry on the nose.

“Your little date last night of course.”

Harry sighs loudly. He should have known.

“It wasn’t a bloody date. He just wanted some time alone, that’s all,” he argues, irritated beyond measure.

Zayn crosses his arms, staring him down sceptically but it’s Niall who speaks, eyes still jumping with barely suppressed humour.

“But he wasn’t alone, dear Harry. He was with you. Strange innit Liam?”

Niall bumps his shoulder against Liam who stumbles a little, his head falling away which in turn jostles Zayn. Harry grins toothily. Liam looks less intent on mockery than Niall and Zayn but his mouth twitches anyway as he speaks.

“Yes,” Harry’s eyes flash with betrayal and Liam shrugs, “well you were out there with him all night.”

“I thought you of all people would understand that I’m just trying to help him. That’s all. He wanted to stay so we stayed,” Harry says cuttingly.

Liam’s twitchy mouth comes to a standstill and he flushes a little.

“I’m sorry,” he says quite sincerely, “but I saw you with him when you chased each other round the centre. It’s like…”

“Like what?”

Zayn’s smile notches up higher on his cheeks as his eyes meet Liam’s.

“Like how it is with me and Li….except I’ve known Li years.”

The three of them look at Harry now waiting for him to explain and it irks him so that they think they’re the ones who are owed something.

“Look,” Harry says now, hands held out in a placating gesture, “you only think there’s something going on because I’ve been paying extra attention to him.”

“A lot,” Niall adds.

“Like your eyes don’t seem to be much interested in the rest of the world when he’s around,” Zayn says, just as unnecessarily.

“Anyway,” Harry’s voice is firm and his expression unflinching as he settles his gaze over the boys, “I know it seems like I’m really tuned in to him….but that’s because I am. That’s because I’m trying to be. C’mon Niall, you know what I’m like with people who won’t give, like a dog with a bone.”

“As in, you like to suck on a hard-“

“Zayn!” Liam scolds, slapping his wrist.

Zayn catches his hand though and lifts it to his lips, mouthing at his palm until a dopey smile spreads across Liam’s face. Harry and Niall roll their eyes in time with one another.

“Yeah I guess I know what you’re saying Haz. You don’t give up on the lost causes,” Niall agrees begrudgingly.

Harry smiles broadly now, knowing the ‘let’s mock Harry’ game is drawing to a close.

“That’s because they’re never truly lost if there’s someone who keeps looking for ‘em.”

“You’re really something Harry,” Zayn says, shaking his head with disbelief.

“Thank you.”

“And by that I mean, it amazes me how much of a giant cliché you are.”

Zayn glows with triumph and Harry reaches across and pinches his side hard as Niall’s laughter rings out beside them. All in all, it’s a fairly even altercation.

….

Harry finds it ironic that just an hour earlier he’d been preaching about the idea that someone’s never really lost if you’re looking for them. That is, it’s ironic because despite scaling the crowd of boys every few moments as they climb through the wooded area, his feet sliding around and slipping too often, he cannot see Louis anywhere. He begins to wonder if the boy is even on the trek through the woods. He hadn’t been in the tent when Harry went to change into some different jeans and a white cable knit sweater but Harry knew he had to be close because his green jacket was bunched up in the corner.

Harry suspected Louis had purposely vacated the tent with the express purpose of avoiding Harry should he enter and had probably re-entered the tent as soon as he spied Harry leaving. Now Harry’s frustrated to think he might simply be tucked up in his sleeping bag, reading that book again all because he let a couple of his barriers down. Harry feels like he’s caught in the eye of the Louis Tomlinson storm, calm and seemingly ordered at the centre while everything around him is swirling and changing every time he gets a glimpse beneath the surface of that boy’s exterior.

They make it up to the hill where Harry and Louis had camped together and Harry tries not to pout at the way the crowd of people invades the spot, ruining that quiet moment of…something he’d shared with Louis overnight. He can spot Zayn sitting on a rock miming some kind of story, presumably about a super hero, to Zeke while Liam looks over his shoulder, arm hooked over Devon his face glowing with pride. Niall and his buddy are moving from circle to circle, engaging everybody with chatter and Harry isn’t at all surprised, an amused smile dancing over his lips.

He is surprised however when he turns to take in the rest of the scene and finds Louis on the very edge of the hill, looking down over the camp, his ruffled, dark hair blowing sideways in the breeze, the sun stroking the back of his exposed neck. Harry can’t help himself, his strides are longer and faster as he crosses the ground and stills beside Louis. Louis does not flinch nor react to his presence one iota.

Harry uses the opportunity to survey the younger boy whose lack of layers are a little unsettling. The boy’s arms in his plain white t-shirt are criminally well defined and his muscles protrude from his skin like tiny pockets of temptation. He’s got a burgundy scarf tied loosely around his neck that matches the similarly maroon/burgundy tone of his tight, tight jeans that Harry kind of despises as much as his arms. Despises in the same way you despise the offer of chocolate cake when you’ve just sworn off junk food. His jacket is tied around his waist. Harry bites his lip, forcing his head and eyes out over the landscape.

“You’re here,” he says quietly, “I thought you were back at camp.”

Harry studies Louis’ face for any sign of life but the boy’s eyes are blank, his face expressionless as together they watch the clouds separating still further to allow for the burgeoning push of the deep blue sky.

“It’s okay that you left,” Harry tries once more, still watching, always watching, “and ah, thank you for returning my jacket. I know last night….and yesterday…it was intense…I shared a lot with you and you let me and that was, that was perhaps big for you. So I get it,” Harry swallows noisily, “I get why you might want to retreat. You…engaged with me and I know…I mean, I think…maybe you regret that. But I need to be clear with you Louis.”

Harry’s not sure if he’s seeing things or if Louis’ eyelashes are moving more quickly now, producing slightly jittery blinks.

“I’m not expecting you to divulge anything just because you happened to tolerate my company for a night. It doesn’t work like that. If this,” Harry gestures to the space between them despite the fact that Louis’ not even looking at him, “is because you think I’m trying to work some scheme on you, sharing truth and expecting you to give me all yours in return….you’re wrong Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry doesn’t wait for Louis’ response, just turns and marches back down the crest of the hill waiting at the base until the campers assemble once more, ready to trek back downward. When they head off, Harry quickly falls behind, pigeon toed feet tangling and tripping over each other as unexpected roots get in his way and he continues to find himself stumbling all over the place. He can barely see the group anymore when his foot gets caught under a particularly strong root and he falls forward, his knees hitting a soft bed of leaves. Despite the cushioning, the impact is jarring. He braces himself on his hands, shaking his head at his own misfortune.

“Hopeless,” he mutters, staring down at the blend of woody tones before him.

A loud, impatient sigh startles him as it sounds from above him and when he turns his head up, he’s met with two rather shrewd blue eyes that survey his current position with considerable exasperation.

“Louis,” Harry says breathlessly, falling back onto his haunches and brushing the excess debris off his knees, “I just had a bit of a mishap.”

Louis rolls his eyes and then extends his hand downward, slicing it through the air to indicate his intention as Harry eyes it cautiously.

“Are you sure?” He asks, surprised that Louis would volunteer his help with the current state of things between them.

Louis however seems to think this is a silly question as he runs a hand through his hair, looking irritated and far too superior as he wiggles his hand again with more emphasis. So Harry grasps it tightly, fully prepared to pull himself up but Louis wrenches on his hand at the same time. It ends with an awkward collision in which their chests brush intimately and Harry instinctually cups Louis’ shoulder with his hand to steady himself. Louis’ eyes are all afire with something as he glances at Harry’s hand and Harry withdraws it immediately.

“Sorry,” he says hurriedly, feeling stupid.

Louis’ lips quirk, his expression playful as he tugs on Harry’s sweater, pulling him forward in the direction that they’d previously been travelling. Harry obeys, eyes glued to Louis’ hand as it leaves his jumper and then moves to wrap around his wrist.

The silky feel of Louis’ cold fingers on his warm wrist gives Harry a jolt. It’s a zip line of electricity zapping his whole system as Louis’ eyes meet his own and he draws Harry’s wrist up, eyebrows raised in question. Harry nods woodenly. Yes it’s okay, he says without words. It’s perfectly fine that Louis’ tanned, made-for-piano fingers meet his currently alabaster toned skin in an entrancing fusion of colour, like whipped cream melting into the cocoa flavoured warmth of a milky hot chocolate. It doesn’t stir Harry’s inside one bit.

They walk like that the whole way back, Louis’ careful eyes and cautioning hand upon Harry like a seamstress pulling and tightening the threads on a dress, constantly keeping him in sharp focus and pulling him back into line. Every time Harry’s feet catch another plant, Louis lips curve around that agitated exhalation of breath as he raises his eyes to the heavens.

Yet as Harry blusters an apology, his green eyes caught between dazed and contrite, there is always the tendrils of what just might be an unconscious smile dancing along Louis’ tightly sewn mouth, transforming it from simply illicit to sinfully attractive in a moment. This of course, doesn’t help Harry’s feet find proper purchase in the moments that follow.

The sun is a steady source of streamlined warmth on his back and eventually Harry wrenches his wrist away from Louis to remove his sweater, wondering at the way Louis’ eyes dart his way, his hand twitching aggressively before he looks away once more. Even more curious is the way Louis’ expression morphs as Harry pulls the jumper from his head, his t-shirt settling back into place, lowering itself over the exposed sliver of his skin. Louis looks determined to ignore him even as he quite possessively reaches for his wrist again but his eyes won’t rest on one feature of the landscape and the tendons in his neck look awfully tight; strained even.

“Thank you,” Harry says softly as they cross back into camp, half the group already scattered because they’d trailed so far behind, “could have fallen down a ravine if you hadn’t been there.”

Harry has turned to face Louis, his eyes tracking the interplay of emotions on Louis’ features, watching for any signs of the mistrust or regret he’s come to expect. Yet Louis just bobs his head with agreement, tilting his head slightly as he regards Harry with open amusement.

“I’m a walking disaster, I know,” Harry says with a grin.

He can laugh at himself after all. So he holds his arm up rotating it just slightly to reveal a faded scar on his forearm.

“Got this the first time I went ice skating.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. _How?_ It says.

“Collided with one of my mates and his shoe sliced my arm when I fell on him. I think he regretted telling me to stay close,” Harry says, brushing a thumb across the scar.

Louis’ barely there smile is like a wet paintbrush on a palate, blurring the edges of Harry’s vision and blending him all up inside as Louis reaches forward and traces the scar with his own thumb, knocking Harry’s away. He looks up at Harry now from beneath his long, dark eyelashes, uttering a deadly incantation without words.

Harry briefly wonders if he managed to return from the hike with a woodland fairy, the intrepid firelight dancing in the blue of Louis’ eyes having a strange hypnotic effect on him. Louis draws away, still eyeing Harry with that same watchful, disturbingly intense look as he backs away slowly before finally turning and striding purposefully away in the direction of their tent. Harry scrubs a hand over his face, feeling awfully wrecked inside.

…..

“You were pretty late back to camp eh?” Niall says quietly, sending a smirk Harry’s way as he settles down beside him, crossing his legs against the cold, polished concrete of the floor.

It’s group chat time which means that kids and their mediators take turns telling stories or sharing a little something of what they’re feeling. It’s basically a chance for the boys to get a few things off their chest in a relaxed setting where it just feels like a few lads around the campfire mucking about. Or at least, that’s the intention. The camp’s been split into groups of 8, composed of 4 mediators and their buddies but the way they’re packed into the centre like sardines, their elbows brushing those of their neighbours makes it feel significantly less private. Plus, there’s no campfire.

“Hiking is not my thing mate,” Harry explains, determined not to let his eyes flick over to the hero of the day who sits directly across from him in their circle.

Niall pushes his face closer, his white teeth exposed.

“Is that why Louis had to hold your hand the whole way down?” He teases.

Harry’s eyes bug out as he stares at the laughing leprechaun who clearly knows that Harry hadn’t expected him to have that knowledge.

“It was my wrist,” he corrects quietly with an indignant pout.

Niall only laughs louder, grabbing Harry’s shoulder for support as his whole body shakes with it. Harry rolls his eyes. Niall’s eyes dart sideways across the circle and then he leans in and licks a sloppy, wet stripe up Harry’s neck. Harry’s about to whack him into next week but Niall gives him a fierce look and then leans in close to whisper.

“Doing you a favour. Just look at him.”

Harry reluctantly tears his angry eyes away from Niall to inspect Louis, honestly not knowing what he’ll find. Louis’ eyes are cast down where he plays with his fingers but there’s a definite downward slant to his mouth and a little crease between his eyebrows that wasn’t there before. Harry doesn’t know what to make of it other than that the kind of intimacy Harry and Niall share probably bothers him because he’s still struggling with the whole idea. That has to be it. Niall’s a presumptuous git sometimes.

“Right, before you get started boys,” Paul suddenly calls out from above them, “we need to swap one of these pairs out.”

“What, why?” Zayn asks, his forehead creasing as he glances sideways at Liam who looks similarly peeved.

“Because you four,” he gestures to Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry, “spend far too much time together and I think it’s time you branched out…and let your buddies branch out too.”

Niall’s buddy Colin looks enthusiastic about this, bouncing up and down in his spot on the other side of Niall. Devon looks predictably shy as he leans into Liam’s side, Liam instinctually wrapping an arm around the boy. Zeke looks ready to cause mischief and madness no matter who joins the circle. Louis of course, has no response, just continues toying with his hands, a tense expression on his face.

“So…” Paul’s voice booms when the boys don’t respond, just offering him their respective glares, “Zayn and Zeke, you guys are swapping with Nathan and Ryan.”

Paul points a finger to a circle over in the far left corner. Zayn pats Liam’s knee consolingly, looking quite irritated as he stands. He holds out a hand to Zeke who ignores it and jumps up on his own and runs off, skidding in between the circles on the slippery floor. Zayn’s face wrinkles still further and then he takes off at a steady jog behind him.

“Nathan?” Harry says incredulously, “Paul, you can’t be serious.”

Louis’ head shoots up at this and Harry turns to meet his gaze, two green spheres of steel, vowing loyalty.

“I’m dead serious Harry. What happened the other day was unacceptable but I expect you both to play nice. Build a bridge and get over it,” Paul says, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he stalks off in another direction.

That’s when Nathan steps forward, a small dark skinned boy tucked into his side, pulling on his navy oversized jumper. Nathan’s ebony toned hair is down today, sweeping against his shoulders and he does look significantly less aggressive with his buddy all snuggled up next to him. Harry decides to make the best of things, to be the bigger person. So he smiles encouragingly at Ryan, gesturing to the space left beside Devon where he promptly takes a seat. The only space left is beside Louis. Nathan’s lip curls instantly, his eyes hardening as Louis shuffles to his right, closer to Colin. Yet no insults are spat as Nathan seats himself down next to him.

“This wasn’t my choice,” He says sourly.

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us Nathan. We’re just delighted as you are really,” Harry says, smile notching up as he notes the subtle quiver of Louis’ lips.

Nathan’s look is testy as he opens his mouth but then Ryan pulls on his pants and Nathan looks down at him with surprising softness. It’s bewildering.

“Can I go first?” Ryan asks with hopeful brown eyes.

Nathan’s hand reaches around to pat the small of his back encouragingly, green eyes steeped in kindness. Harry feels rather unsteady watching.

“Course you can buddy.”

Ryan turns to face them, his little cheeks lifting happily. He can’t be more than seven but his chocolate coloured eyes are rather intelligent and self-aware as he looks around the circle.

“My mum called to speak to me today,” he pipes up, face glowing with pride.

“And what did she say?” Nathan prompts softly, using his chin to gesture to the rest of the circle.

“She said her bad, infected cells are all gone,” he recites gleefully.

The rest of the kids look a little confused but Niall, Liam and Harry share a look of genuine warmth and happiness. Louis reaches across Nathan and offers his hand to Ryan who takes it even as Nathan glares down at the exchange. Louis smiles and its close mouthed but it’s so large in his face and the whole group is silent for a moment just watching the two clasped hands and shared smile with awe. After a moment, they both let go and the spell is broken…although Harry continues to inspect Louis who gazes down at his fingernails.

“What was that?” Nathan says harshly, jabbing a thumb in Louis’ direction as he looks across at Harry, “he speaks through bloody telekinesis? Like a coward.”

Louis’ eyes meet his as Harry responds, just gently tracing his face as though looking for signs that he too might say something of the kind.

“Maybe,” Harry’s smile is a wave of fondness rising up over his face, “or maybe he’s just got enough substance to him, that it comes across without words.”

“What’s that mean?” Colin asks, bobbing up and down to his own internal rhythm.

“It means Harry thinks Louis’ got a lot to offer,” Niall explains with a sly look.

Harry tries to discourage him with a subtle shake of his head. A quick glance across the way confirms Louis’ eyes are narrowed with concentration studying the interaction and scanning Harry’s face with a penetrating look. Harry shakes it off.

“Liam,” he says, turning around and grasping the boy’s shoulder who looks a little surprised, “your turn.”

“Oh…oh okay,” Liam fumbles, reaching up and pulling his snapback off, turning it over in his hands, “I ah…well, sometimes I just think it’s difficult to be with someone who hates the idea of commitment.”

Colin tugs on Niall’s t-shirt.

“I’m confused again,” He whines.

“How about you explain that a bit more?” Harry asks, his brow creasing as he pictures Zayn.

Liam looks uncomfortable, agitated even, as his knee begins to fly up and down.

“It’s just that,” he glances sideways at Devon and Ryan, seemingly remembering their presence, “sometimes when you love someone, it’s hard to tell them that because they’re scared to hear it. Sometimes they’d rather not hear it.”

“Why?” Devon finally pipes up, looking up at Liam with fascination.

Liam opens his mouth but Harry cuts in.

“Some people just find it a bit scary because relationships can change. Devon, I think Liam mentioned your parents aren’t together?”

Devon nods, his mouth drooping down a little.

“Yes well your parents changed a bit, didn’t they? And I think that might have scared you a bit too. You might have felt a little bit unsure about what else could change…right?”

Devon tilts his head for a moment, thinking and then nods.

“I thought dad would go away forever,” he says in a tiny voice.

“But he didn’t, did he?” Liam says, squeezing Devon’s hand who blushes profusely.

Ah, that first untimely crush. Harry remembers it well.

“You still see your dad Devon,” Harry continues, “and your mum seems a lot happier now from what I hear. So I guess, things can change and that’s what scares people because they don’t always expect things to change for the better. They think that things will keep changing for the worse and they don’t like the idea that nothing stays the same. It’s a bit frightening guys, isn’t it?”

Harry looks to the kids for confirmation and they all nod along, looking kind of transfixed by his clumsy attempt at an explanation.

“But even though nothing stays the same, even though sometimes bad things happen,” Harry’s eyes fasten upon Louis now who cocks his head to one side, looking at Harry with a certain kind of curiosity, “that doesn’t mean we should stop saying I love you or give up on those people who are scared. Because sometimes you can prove to somebody that even though things change, even though sometimes they change for the worse, your belief in them won’t and that can be enough to comfort them.”

“Mate, I dunno where you get this stuff from,” Niall exclaims loudly, “but it sounds good even in simpleton terms.”

There’s an imperceptible nod from Louis and Liam clasps the back of Harry’s neck tightly, sending him a grateful smile. Yet it’s Nathan that surprises him the most also sending a smile his way, seemingly devoid of mockery.

“Me next!” Colin pipes up, bouncing higher.

Niall rests a placating hand on his knee but that just ends with his hand being bounced up and down on Colin’s knee as he flaps his legs.

“Go ahead,” Harry says, smiling broadly.

“I feel great today because Niall taught me how to play smoke on the water on guitar!”

He grins up at Niall as he holds his air guitar up, pretending to strum as he rolls his head around like a true rocker.  Niall gestures to him proudly.

“The next Jimi Hendrix everybody!”

The circle erupts into applause which spurs Colin on who wheels his arm around in a dramatic stroke, head banging now as he makes some noises that sound awfully like a dodgy car trying to huff and puff its way up a hill.

“I’ll go now,” Niall says, giving Colin a warning look who reluctantly retires his air guitar, reaching behind his neck to pull away the invisible guitar strap.

Harry deigns not to inform him that he never put the strap on in the first place. He figures the laws of logic don’t apply to invisible objects.

”When I was younger, I had a really big crush on my man Harry here,” Niall says with gusto, reaching out and snagging a hand around Harry’s waist as Harry reluctantly follows his glittering eyes and pointed smile across the circle to his target, “kind of still do. I mean, who wouldn’t love him?”

Louis’ face is decently composed but his eyes are locked on Niall’s hand pressing into Harry’s waist and Harry feels his insides liquefy a little at the slight possibility that it might bother him, this blatant lie. Yet it’s ridiculous because when he looks back again, Louis’ eyes are downcast, his stance unbothered. Niall’s cackling like a lunatic as Harry thumps him over the back but then Ryan interrupts, pulling on Nathan’s jumper.

“I thought only girls like boys?” He asks with a quizzical expression.

Nathan’s green eyes flicker with something that Harry can’t quite get a read on and he chews on his bottom lip before looking up at Harry, asking for help?

“Boys can like boys too,” Harry says gently, “and girls can like girls. It’s rarer but it’s just as special as boys and girls who love each other.”

Devon looks up at Harry with troubled green eyes and suddenly Harry feels like he’s looking at a younger version of himself, the dark hair, blushing cheeks and contagious smile all enhancing the effect.

“But that’s okay?” He asks, voice trembling, “for a boy to love a boy like they’re supposed to love a girl?”

Harry doesn’t care if Devon’s parents might possibly track him down and castigate him for this. He reaches across and ruffles the boy’s hair, proffering a warm look.

“Promise you mate, you’re not ‘supposed’ to love anybody. You love whoever you want to love. I guess I’ll take my turn now,” Harry looks around the circle, his eyes first resting on Louis before traveling to Nathan who looks curiously still, “I’m gay.”

Niall lets out a dramatic gasp to which Harry responds by sticking his tongue out at him but it’s Nathan who startles him, an inquisitive light in his eye rather than the flames of hatred that Harry had expected. Then he abruptly jumps up, looking shaken.

“Where are you off to?” Niall asks, eyeing him with barely concealed disgust, “something bothering you?”

“I…I’m, I need some air,” Nathan stutters, his eyes darting to Harry’s and then nervously away before he basically runs from the centre.

Harry looks after him, a frown marring his features.

“I think I should go check on him,” he says, rising up onto his feet.

When he looks down at the circle, he’s met with a look of support from Liam and a look of incredulity from Niall and Louis. Well actually, Louis’ eyes look more like cerulean blue globes of destruction. He looks positively livid, his mouth drawn into a hard line.

“Go after the bloke because your sexuality freaked him out? Have you gone nuts Harry?” Niall questions.

Louis nods his head, answering the question directed Harry’s way. Harry sends him an angry look before rolling his eyes at Niall.

“I’m trying to be the bigger person. Besides, I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. I’m just going to go find out what’s going on.”

When he makes it through the hordes of people to the doors and bursts outside, he finds Nathan immediately, leaning up against the centre, his head tilted back toward the sky, his leg pushed up against the wall.

“Nathan,” Harry calls out as he approaches him.

Nathan’s posture stiffens, his leg retracting as he meets Harry’s searching look, his face twitchy and restless.

“I’ll be back in a moment. I just need some space,” Nathan says, flecks of steel burning beneath his tone.

“What’s really wrong?” Harry sighs, reaching out with a cautious hand to grip Nathan’s shoulder.

His eyes widen marginally as he takes in Harry’s touch and he just stares at Harry for a moment, his breath coming in short, fast pants before something takes over, his hands wrapping around Harry’s face as his lips come down hard against Harry’s mouth. Harry stiffens, his whole body going into shock and there’s a moment of Nathan’s lips sliding against his cold, unmoving ones until Nathan notes the lack of response and steps backward.

“I’m sorry,” he rushes to say.

“What the fuck,” Harry pants, “what the fuck Nathan?”

“I’m…I’m gay,” he says quietly, his eyes somewhere around his shoes, “I know I’ve been a jerk about it.”

“You’re gay?” Harry clarifies, pausing for a moment as he takes this in, “right so are you going to apologise?”

“I’m sorry I kissed you but I-“

“Not to me,” Harry says impatiently, “to Louis.”

“Oh,” Nathan’s face falls, “oh.”

“Look, I dunno what that was about,” Harry gestures at his mouth, “but am I right in saying you were just feeling some intense stuff and I just happened to be there?”

“Well-“

Harry cuts him off again, ready for this to be over and done with.

“I think you should apologise to Louis. It’s the right thing to do. If you’re not actually a jerk, you’ll go in there now and say sorry for acting like a tool about his sexuality of which you know nothing about. I mean, you’ve barely got your own figured out,” Harry scolds, like a teacher telling a kid to go to the naughty corner.

Nathan steps closer again with watery green eyes. He brings a hand to Harry’s cheek and Harry does his best not to shrink away.

“I’ll apologise. Because I like you Harry. It wasn’t just because you were there,” he says softly, tracing Harry’s cheek bone with his thumb.

Harry’s stomach jumps at the words but it leaves him feeling rather ill.

“Good,” Harry says brusquely, ignoring the second part of his speech, “now I’m going to go.”

He moves out of Nathan’s touch and takes a step backward, in the direction of the tents.

“Go where? We haven’t finished yet,” Nathan says, clearly puzzled as he watches Harry slowly back away.

“Ah…I’m uh, not feeling well. Please just tell the boys I’ll be in my tent. Bye Nath!” Harry calls, turning and walking quickly across the grass before anything more can be said.

Nath? Where had that come from? One day he’s the disgusting homophobe Harry despises and now he’s Nath? Harry feels like someone took a hammer to his brain and his sleeping bag is just calling out to him right now. He feels a little bad about leaving Louis there when Louis barely trusts him, let alone the rest of the boys but at least Nathan promised to apologise. Harry consoles himself with this fact as he unzips his sleeping bag and snuggles down into its womb-like warmth.

…..

When he awakens, it feels late and there’s something….or a couple of things stuck to his head. He pulls the sticky notes away, a guilty frown warping his features even as he questions the legitimacy of that emotion.

“ _Nathan said you were sick.”_

_“Also said sorry.”_

_“Guess that was your doing. Still don’t like him much.”_

_“But thank you Harry Styles. Feel better soon.”_


	6. Chapter 6

_Day Ten_

Harry’s eyes cross the centre and find Louis’ before anything else. It’s as though just confirming his presence is becoming part of his morning routine. He doesn’t like to put too much thought into why that is. He would like to pretend he’s not checking out the younger lad with his soft, messy hair and his fine dusting of facial hair as he sits at a table across the way, pushing his breakfast around his plate with a tense look pulling back his structured cheekbones.

His tiny frame is donned in a jersey type shirt that’s charcoal grey over his chest with some kind of flame in the centre. It has white sleeves that finish halfway down his arms, displaying his dainty, elfin wrists that Harry tries to stop himself from imagining encircling as he backs Louis up against a wall. Yet the tightness of the top along his chest and shoulders does not help matters. For once, Harry kind of wishes that he’d cloak himself in the oversized jacket resting in his denim clad lap. It would perhaps have ensured Harry noticed the new addition to his table before they sat down beside him.

“Hey Haz!” a voice pipes up from beside him, clunking their bowl down onto the table.

Harry’s head snaps to his left to find Nathan sitting in Niall’s usual spot, his murky green eyes lit up as he drags a hand back through his loose black hair. Harry’s not comparing the ill-fitting flannel to a jersey. He’s not. He likes flannel after all.

“Ah…hi,” Harry says tentatively looking over at his friends for some idea of what the hell is happening.

Niall is squeezed in between Zayn and Liam, looking none too happy about it while Zayn’s lips pull up with amusement.

“How are you feeling today?” Nathan questions, placing a gentle hand upon Harry’s shoulder.

Suddenly Taylor Swift is echoing around his head. I shake it off, I shake it off. But he doesn’t. He has more decency than that.

“Good, fine, fantastic,” Harry says awkwardly, delivering Niall a look that he hopes cries “help.”

Niall just continues to glower at Nathan for taking his spot.

“Would you like some more synonyms Harry?” Zayn asks, smiling cruelly.

“I’m good thanks,” Harry shoots back with murderous eyes.

Zayn remains unfazed. Liam frowns at him.

“Well, that’s good,” Nathan says still so very upbeat, “I love what you’re wearing. You’ve got great style. Like your name I guess.”

Nathan is grinning expectedly at him and Harry tries to ignore the hacking, not-very-subtle scoff/cough/laugh spilling over Zayn’s lips and the voice in his head that wants to scoff also. He likes silly puns and lame jokes. He likes flannel. So why the low buzz in the back of his head that protests it all so very violently? Harry does however appreciate the compliment. The long, navy Burberry coat had cost him a great deal and the jeans were from a rather upscale boutique having been plucked from the women’s section simply because they happened to fit him better.

“Thanks,” Harry forces himself to mirror the grin presented to him, “the coat’s from Burberry.”

“From where?” Nathan asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

Harry sighs inwardly.

“Never mind,” he says as kindly as he can manage, digging his spoon into his cereal just as Niall bounces up off his bench.

“I’m going to go shower,” he says icily, “hopefully my cubicle will not be occupied.”

Harry’s never heard Niall speak so frostily to anyone. It’s a little unsettling.

“You okay Nialler?” He asks with a concerned tilt of his head.

“Course H,” Niall replies, his tone less than convincing, “just thought you had better taste…in cereal.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Niall drifts away from the table.

“Seems like someone is a bit bothered by the fact that we’re hanging out.”

Nathan leans in close to Harry to whisper this, clutching the side of Harry’s waist as he does so.

“Don’t worry about it. Niall’s just a bit weird about people who steal his seat,” Harry says dismissively, his skin itching uncomfortably under Nathan’s hand.

“Niall?” Nathan’s face scrunches up, “Niall’s angry I sat in his seat?”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Um...who were you talking about?”

Nathan clucks his tongue impatiently and grasps Harry’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, swivelling his head forward. In the gap left by Niall, Harry’s eyes fall on a rather intense look of infuriation.

“Louis,” Nathan sighs, “he’s been staring at us ever since you sat down.”

Harry gulps as dark plumes of smoke rise in the tumultuous blue eyes that he seems to get lost in so easily.  Louis’ eyes lock with his as his dark eyebrows knit together and he reaches up a hand to push a few wayward chestnut hairs back into place. Harry doesn’t know why he’d like to replace Louis’ hand with his own. It’s just hair for god sakes.

“Is there something going on between you two?” Nathan asks suspiciously.

Harry’s eyes reluctantly return to his.

“No, of course not,” Harry blusters, “he’s mute when it comes to mediators…what could possibly be going on?”

There’s a tight column of heat working its way up Harry’s spine.

“I don’t know,” Nathan’s green eyes are clear now, no sign of doubting Harry’s words, “but he does like to watch you. I noticed it from the beginning.”

Harry’s curls fall into his face as he looks down at his bowl, chasing the corn flakes around the milk with his spoon.

“Louis’ got a very attentive personality. He likes to watch people to understand their motives,” Harry explains and it doesn’t feel like a lie.

“I guess…”

Harry doesn’t say much after that, concentrating fixedly on his breakfast and refusing to meet the two pairs of eyes burning holes into his head. One pair sparkling blue, the other a murky green.

…..

“Why are you working with us?” Harry asks as he settles himself down in the seat across from Louis and Nathan.

The campers had been given the task of composing a poem about their mediators and Harry was curious to see what Louis might produce. When he’d spied Nathan perched on the bench, a decent space extending between him and Louis, he’d felt his spirits sink just slightly.

“Ryan is sick, the poor little man,” Nathan coos and Harry’s demeanour softens just slightly, “and Paul told me to join a pair.”

“And you picked us?”

Harry is a little confused despite Nathan’s confession that he ‘likes’ Harry. It’s clear that he doesn’t feel any such thing for Louis as he ignores the boy’s presence completely. Louis himself has got a tiny crease at the top of his nose and his usually target specific blue eyes are rather glazed over. Deep in thought, Harry concludes.

“Thought it might be fun,” Nathan says jovially, placing two pads and two pens down on the table between him and Louis, “you should close your eyes Harry and then you won’t know who wrote what.”

Louis’ eyebrows hitch up at this suggestion and Harry can’t tell whether it’s simple surprise or intrigue.

“What if I want to know?”

“Too bad,” Nathan’s elbow jostles Louis’ forearm and Harry’s fingers twitch to reach across and stop him, “right, Louis?”

Louis nods, an uneasy smile on his face as he glances down at the point of contact. Nathan draws his arm back in and Harry relaxes in tandem with Louis.

“Okay, okay,” Harry gives in, covering his face with his large palms, “don’t take too long though. The back of my eyelids aren’t that picturesque.”

This startles a soft laugh out of Louis and Harry’s mouth pushes against the curves of his hands as he glows with accomplishment. They do actually take their time but after twenty long minutes which Harry may or may not have spent thinking about certain jersey related items, towel clad boys and asses that just won’t be confined by a pair of tight jeans, Louis reaches over and brushes a thumb across his wrist. Harry opens his eyes to two identical pieces of paper filled to the brim with cursive script.

“We matched our writing so you won’t be able to tell,” Nathan brags, tapping on the paper to indicate the lack of difference between the two.

Harry glances down and is surprised to note that there is hardly a speck of difference between them. Despite being familiar with Louis’ handwriting, he finds himself unable to distinguish which is which as he begins to read. The first poem is….nice, if not a little simple but the second…the second goes straight to his chest, stealing all his breath and making him a little dizzy.

 

_Does good with his work,_

_Lights pathways with his smile,_

_Our camp will remember,_

_Harry-freaking-Styles._

_Strives to help others,_

_Day in and day out,_

_Compassion and care,_

_Is what Harry Styles is about._

_Curly and carefree,_

_Radiating something warm,_

_He is our antidote,_

_Harry Styles deflects the storm._

_Heart shaped mouth,_

_Bow shaped lips,_

_The way that he struts,_

_A kink in his hips._

_The subtle promise of dusk in his eyes,_

_A transformative moment or two,_

_Dreams dancing down his curls,_

_The boy who believed, for you._

_Magic pooling in the fingertips,_

_It flames and burns in his touch,_

_Leaving trails of coppery ash,_

_Wherever that skin does brush._

_Exquisite creature,_

_The roses that bloom beneath your cheeks,_

_The swell of your smile,_

_Shall stain this mind for weeks_

“I…” Harry looks up and his eyes find Louis’ first, soft but careful as he regards Harry and there’s a dull pain in the back of Harry’s throat that might just be longing, “I don’t know what to say…..I….thank you….thank you Louis.”

Nathan coughs exaggeratedly and Harry’s eyes jump sideways to the irritated flicker of his expression.

“Ah, thank you Nathan. Thank you both,” Harry says awkwardly, “you’re too kind.”

Louis stands then and his hand brushes over Harry’s shoulder slowly, his expression a little hard to read but the blue of his eyes is somehow bluer than usual. When he moves away, Harry feels the loss. Harry has already, with a budding hope, attributed the second poem to Louis when Nathan stands too, touching Harry the exact same way although perhaps with less tenderness, his hand merely landing on Harry’s shoulder while Louis fingers had burned their way across it, trailing languidly across the blade. Nathan leans down to whisper before he too leaves the centre. The soft words leave Harry’s insides all churned up in what he’s not sure is a good way.

“Exquisite creature.”

It wasn’t Louis after all. Of course it wasn’t. How could Harry have thought Louis would have anything so poetic to say about him anyway? Why does he want him to? It’s not as if the other poem is unkind…just more…neutral. It doesn’t possess the same weight, the same power to steal breath and slow the heart. Harry reluctantly gives to the idea that Nathan is the one who is able to affect him so. It is Nathan that has ensnared his mind with words while Louis plagues it with silence.

…….

Harry settles down into his sleeping bag, his mind still racing with the way Nathan held his gaze over dinner, never approaching but staring so very unflinchingly. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy who had deemed him ‘exquisite.’ He didn’t glance Louis’ way once and maybe that’s a good thing. He needs to stop thinking about Louis like just another boy when Louis’ got so much going on in his head. Harry’s supposed to be guiding him through all that, not checking him out. Not that he ever did that of course.

It’s hard to reconcile the image of Nathan he’d constructed previously with the one he’s got in his head now. The brute of a boy has turned into a butterfly and Harry finds it’s not an altogether unpleasant surprise, just strange…like nothing he’d expected.

Harry is so consumed with thought that as he turns toward the centre of the tent, he squeaks out a surprised noise. Louis isn’t bunched up in his corner tonight. No, instead his sleeping bag is mysteriously closer than ever before. He rests his head on his outstretched arm, a watchful, near mystical look in his eyes that glow slightly in the dim light. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face in response to Harry’s surprise and Harry’s heart pulses quickly in his chest as Louis inches closer until their faces are mere centimetres apart.

Harry doesn’t say a word and neither does Louis (obviously) but they share the space, their eyes moving slowly across each other’s, catching on ten days’ worth of memories and interactions that lie between them. There’s a fire scaling up the tent, burning across the space but it only reflects in their eyes. They only watch the flames climb higher with a muted appreciation for its warmth as it sucks them in. Harry’s eyes eventually droop as they tire and he falls asleep with that ardent look burned into his brain, heating his blood as the sound of his own voice echoes in his mind.

_“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.”_

 

_Day Eleven_

Harry wakes up early, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Louis' peaceful expression. His hand is squeezing Harry's sleeping bag this time and Harry gets an unusual kind of thrill out of that. Louis' thin lips push out with every rise of his chest and his fringe flutters slightly, some unruly strands falling across his eyelids and tickling them. Harry's hand moves of it's own accord to push them away, surprised at the softness of Louis' hair because it always looks so styled...in that messy way of his of course.

 

Harry's hand drifts further through the centre of his hair in a gentle motion but then Louis seemingly whimpers. He pushes up against Harry’s hand, so needy and a choked sound arises from Harry’s throat in response.  He then makes an executive decision to exit the tent before Louis awakens and catches him violating his personal space, for no other god damn reason than that his hand seems to have a mind of its own.  
  
Harry showers and dresses in a lilac button down with dark jeans and a thick black jacket over the top and makes his way down the centre. To his surprise, he finds that Zayn and Liam are already set up with breakfast materials and steaming drinks.  
  
"Zayn, you're up at this ungodly hour?" Harry says sceptically, seating himself down across from the boys.  
  
Zayn looks up from his buttery toast with a grimace.  
  
"Apparently this one wanted to talk without you guys or our buddies around," Zayn explains, tilting his head towards Liam.  
  
"Oh am I intruding? Should I go sit somewhere else?" Harry says, looking between them.  
  
Liam says "maybe" at the same time that Zayn says "no" with panic. They both glare at each other.  
  
"I'm just going to um..." the boys continue to trade angry looks, "I'll just be...." Liam looks at Harry now, impatience in his eyes, "right I'm just gonna go someplace else."  
  
He hotfoots it out of there as quick as he can landing on a table down the other end of the line which currently houses no angry couples and no one at all in fact. It's around half an hour later when Harry's finished up his breakfast and is just scrolling through Facebook on his phone that a hefty plate clangs against the table and Niall plops down across from him.  
  
"Jesus H Christ," he says, tone full of bother, "those two have gone mad."  
  
He jabs his finger in the direction of Zayn and Liam who are apparently still locked in a heated battle, both speaking too quietly to be overheard but with venomous looks on their faces that foreshadow some serious destruction in the near future.  
  
"Told me to get lost basically," Niall huffs, "thought I'd better play it safe and leave my seat open next to you in case Nathan decides to bite my head off too."  
  
Harry locks his phone and places it face down on the table.  
  
"They've been like that for half an hour," Harry sighs, "I'm worried it's because they're finally having the talk."  
  
"The talk about what?" Niall asks, expression blank, completely and utterly oblivious.  
  
"About whether they're actually together or not you git. Liam's in love with him."  
  
"So?" Niall asks, his mouth opening to expose chewed up bits of bacon.  
  
Harry's face creases with disgust.  
  
"So," he says exaggeratedly, "he needs to know how Zayn feels. Like whether what they have is going to be anything more."  
  
Niall shakes his head.  
  
"I've said it once and I'll say it again. Couples man."  
  
That's when a soft warm touch slides across Harry's shoulder and he glances up quickly, expecting hazy green eyes and long, ebony hair. Instead he finds the warm, full smile of one Louis Tomlinson whose eyes shine with something Harry can't quite put his finger on.  
  
"You want to sit with us?" Harry clarifies, feeling doubtful.  
  
Louis' jeans are a bright shade of magenta that contrasts with Harry's shirt and he's wearing a plain white shirt beneath his customary jacket. Louis nods and then proceeds to swing his legs over the bench, sitting so close to Harry that their thighs touch. Harry's eyes bug out as he looks up at Niall who doesn't look at all surprised, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he grins across the table at an oblivious Louis.  
  
However the brief moment of shock is eclipsed as Nathan approaches and Harry finds himself feeling unsteady. He suddenly feels as though he has to explain Louis’ presence.  
  
"Oh…Louis," Nathan stops short as he spies Louis' smaller form behind Harry, "you're in my seat."  
  
The tips of Harry's ears feel tinged in pink as he looks back at Louis whose face is fluctuating between joyous and amused. Harry struggles to retain his grip on reality. Is this really about who should be seated next to him?  
  
Louis shrugs, a simpering smile spreading from his mouth to his blue eyes, the Aqua glitter sliding out across the floor.  
  
"It's my seat actually," Niall says crossly and Louis' smile wavers, "and I'm happy for Louis to take it."  
  
Louis' glow returns and he winks at Niall who grins in response, the two suddenly conducting the kind of interactions Louis usually only has with Harry. Harry doesn't mind. Of course he doesn't. His best mate and his buddy becoming mates...how...grand. Nathan looks rather bothered by the whole transaction as he bends down and wraps a possessive hand around Harry's neck, turning his head away from Louis and toward himself.  
  
"I'm gonna go have a shower then. I'll see you later yes?"  
  
Harry feels strange that Nathan's touching him with such ownership when he’s yet to reciprocate his feelings in any way, shape or form. However just as his mouth opens to protest, a voice in his mind reminds him that this is the boy who wrote him the kindest, most touching piece of poetry he could ever have imagined.  
  
"Yes," Harry agrees and there's a little huff of breath behind him that he chooses to ignore.  
  
"Great," Nathan responds, drawing his fingers across the underside of Harry's chin before he stands and walks quietly away.  
  
"God he's disgusting," Niall says with a shudder, "don't know what you're thinking Haz."  
  
Harry's forehead creases.  
  
"He's not-" Harry's argument dies on his lips as his eyes fall on Louis' near empty plate, "Louis, what the hell do you call that?"  
  
Louis' eyes question his outburst and Niall's laugh spills out into open air.  
  
"Oh you're in trouble now Louis. He's got his daddy voice on," Niall warns with a snicker.  
  
Louis raises an eyebrow at Niall before crossing his arms and meeting Harry's gaze with a challenge in his own eyes that says, "No, _you're_ the one who's in trouble."  
  
"That's not a breakfast," Harry chastises, gesturing angrily at the plate that houses only a fried egg, "that's a bloody snack…not even."  
  
Louis' nostrils flare and Harry's got the message once more.  
  
"Oh let me guess, it's not for me to tell you what to eat or what to do?"  
  
Louis inclines his head.  
  
"Well somebody has to tell you to look after yourself. Give me the plate," Harry berates with sparking green eyes, holding his hand out expectantly.  
  
Louis draws it close to his body, gripping on for dear life.  
  
"Give me the plate Louis Tomlinson or so help me god," Harry threatens watching as Louis' eyes darken, "and yes, to answer your question, I am dead serious."  
  
That's when Niall's head bangs down lightly against the table but loud enough to capture Harry's attention.  
  
"Niall?"  
  
"You're driving me mad, reading his thoughts like that. It's bloody unnatural is what it is. It's like you," Niall pauses, glancing at Louis nervously but ploughing ahead anyway, "it's like you experience everything from your point of view and then see it a second time through his eyes."  
  
Harry and Louis' eyes meet and there's a softness in them now, a precarious kind of trust that has somehow developed over the last eleven days. Harry pulls his hand back from the plate that he'd been slowly inching towards but it's unnecessary because Louis reaches out to still his retracting hand and places the plate inside.  
  
"You'll let me get you a proper breakfast?" Harry asks, his throat feeling thick with something he can’t quite identify.  
  
Louis nods. Harry makes to get up but Louis tugs him down again with a bitten lip.  
  
"What?"  
  
He reaches out and smooths his hands across both sides of Harry's collar, flattening it out. His hands move slow across Harry's shoulders and linger in a way that sends shivers down his spine. When Harry stands up again, he teeters a little and Louis' hand finds the sides of his thighs, supporting him. It's all a little too much and Harry's gait is unsteady as he traipses away to fetch Louis some breakfast.  
  
..... __  
  


_“I suck at Archery,”_ reads the post it note.

Harry and Louis stand before a coloured target. Louis’ holding the bow under his arm directing a malevolent glare Harry’s way, as if it were his fault that archery happens to be one of the few sports that he has some degree of skill in, while Louis lacks any.

“Here,” Harry says softly, plucking the bow from Louis’ arms, “let me help you.”

Louis lets out an agitated sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. So Harry takes his time attaching the arrow to the bow.

“Okay,” he instructs, “I’m going to need you to uncross your arms please.”

Louis rolls his eyes, the words “don’t patronise” written all over his expressive face. A smile flutters at the edges of Harry’s lips in response.

“Now,” Harry commands, taking Louis’ left hand as he steps closer to the boy, his stomach squared up against Louis’ hips.

Louis looks just a touch uncomfortable as Harry’s hand curls around his, bringing his hand up to grip the handle of the bow. Harry moves around behind him now and reaches down to clasp his other hand.

“This is your dominant hand yes?” He breathes against Louis’ ear.

Louis jumps a little, surprised by Harry’s proximity. Harry’s arm slowly rises up the length of his arm to grip his bicep, just to help position his arm correctly of course. He helps Louis close his hand over the string tightly but Louis’ distracted, twitching, as his fingers close over the end of the arrow incorrectly. Harry’s not sure what’s gotten into him but he cups Louis’ elbow and murmurs his instruction softly into his ear.

“No, Louis. Relax. Let me show you.”

Harry squeezes his hand around Louis’, splitting his fingers so the arrow rests more comfortably in between them.

“Now widen your hips, you’re all boxed up,” Harry says, a whisper of a smile upon his lips as he slides down Louis’ body, pushing his calves apart while Louis stares down at him with wide, blue eyes, “like this.”

Harry rises back up, cupping Louis’ small hips and squeezing teasingly. There’s a choked cough rising up out of Louis’ throat that makes Harry chuckle.

“Okay, you’re almost set,” he says gleefully.

Louis begins to draw back the arrow but Harry stills him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and resting a cautioning hand on his outstretched arm. His other hand gravitates sideways across Louis’ hip to lay upon his stomach. Harry can feel Louis’ abdominals contracting and it makes his head a little fuzzy.

“ _Almost_ set Lou,” Harry tells him, letting soft traces of fond amusement colour his tone, “but not completely.”

Louis sighs, his eyebrows knitting together but he still looks off balance, even in his frustration.

“Okay,” Harry draws his hand away from Louis’ arm but keeps his other hand poised on Louis stomach, pressing gently, “I want you to breathe in whenever I press.”

Louis’ breathing is erratic and too quick as he fails to breathe in time.

“Louis,” Harry implores, “Lou, just slow it down. C’mon breathe in now.”

After a few moments, Louis’ breathing falls back into a predictable pattern. Harry reluctantly lets his hand fall, framing Louis arms now from behind, his hand closing over the top of Louis’ upon the string as together, they draw the arrow back.

“Now, the key is to let go in between heartbeats. Do you think you can manage that?” Harry whispers.

Louis nods but his eyes are remarkably unfocused as Harry tilts his head a little to peer at them. So Harry removes his hand from Louis’ stomach, reaching up and under his arm to cover Louis’ chest with his palm.

“This okay? Sorry for manhandling you,” Harry says belatedly.

Louis nods his head in a sporadic motion. It’s okay. He looks panicked though.

“Okay good,” Harry closes his eyes briefly as he feels the quickening thrum of Louis’ heartbeat beneath his hand.

He’s not sure why it stirs such movement in his stomach.

“Okay, slow your heart and I will tell you when.”

It takes a prolonged moment of silence but Harry eventually feels Louis’ heart slow as his eyes fix on the target.

“Now,” Harry breathes softly and Louis releases.

The arrow goes sailing through the air in a perfect arc landing smack bang in the centre of the target. Louis turns to Harry with a triumphant grin, a surprised and blissful laugh falling from his lips. Their bodies surge together in a tight hug and Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, squeezing him tightly as he lifts him off the ground.

“Congratulations green arrow,” Harry murmurs in his ear as he places him back on the ground, “your first bullseye.”

Louis’ eyes trace Harry’s with intense heat as they pull apart and it’s so much. It’s so much that Harry has to mutter an excuse just to get away from the furnace burning behind the blue.

“I need some water,” he says hurriedly, trying not to be bothered by the look of confusion and perhaps hurt that forms on Louis’ face.

……

“Have you seen Louis?” are the first words out of Harry’s mouth as he sits down next to Niall at dinner.

“Actually, I did see him heading off into the woods before I came down here,” Niall says thoughtfully.

“And you didn’t think to stop him? To inform me that he was leaving? God dammit Niall, he needs to eat,” Harry says crossly.

Niall’s hand lands on his bicep and he squeezes tightly.

“Woah Haz. What’s going on? He just seemed like he needed some time on his own. That’s understandable right?”

“I messed up Nialler,” Harry groans, green eyes filled with despair, “I invaded his personal space and then I walked away from him…like it was his fault.”

“Harry,” Niall shakes his head with exasperation, “you need to get your shit together man.”

Harry scrubs a hand over his face.

“I know, I know. I need to stop acting like this with him but there’s just something different about him. Something that I can’t put a name to,” Harry says, a touch reverently.

“You’re gone for the boy H,” Niall laughs, “barely two weeks and you’re positively gone mate.”

“Shut up,” Harry growls.

“I’ll take that as confirmation,” Niall says with relish.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Harry announces shoving away from the table and leaving his dinner untouched.

“You do that Harry Styles,” Niall calls after him, “bring that boyfriend of yours home.”

Harry shakes his head, refusing to react as he exits the centre, his feet gliding quickly over the grass as he makes his way toward his target.

Harry finds Louis sitting on the bank in an identical position to the day they first met. It was just eleven days ago and yet Harry feels like Louis has transformed before him, trusting him more with every kind look and gentle touch. Louis doesn’t acknowledge his presence but Harry’s not sure if this is intentional as when he lowers himself to the ground beside him, he notes the vacant, distracted look in Louis’ eyes. Louis stares into the darkness just breaking over the water with the onset of the night.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice is faint but the eerie silence of the woods makes it sounds louder and less feeble, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For…for being inappropriate with you and then walking off like that…as though you were at fault. I’m sorry I’m such a prat.”

The side of Louis’ mouth quavers and then he rewards Harry with the twist of his head, his whimsical blue eyes bearing forgiveness as he briefly touches Harry’s wrist. Of course, that’s when Harry just happens to mess it up all over again.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his tongue wetting his lips nervously and drawing Louis’ eyes to his mouth, before he continues, “I just wish I could ask…I promised myself I wouldn’t…but Louis, god it drives me mad…is there…is there any chance you’ll share anything with me before this thing is over? Your voice, your stories. Will you ever open up for me?”

It’s the wrong question to ask and the wrong time to ask it and Harry has never felt more like a clueless imbecile as Louis violently draws his feet out of the water, flicking droplets in every direction as he shoves them into his shoes, glaring obstinately at the ground.

“Louis,” Harry tries, his hand reaching out to touch Louis’ ankle but Louis pulls it away faster than he can blink, “Louis, I’m sorry.”

Louis’ not having it. His blue eyes are like two hurricanes gathering strength, his mouth pressed into a cold, hard line as he storms off, back toward camp. Harry feels slightly better knowing he won’t be roaming around the dark and that perhaps he might even consider eating something. Yet he still feels like a right twat for even posing the question. Of course Louis doesn’t want to open up to him. Just because Harry’s been kind to him, just because Harry’s touched him far too intimately one too many times….it doesn’t mean Louis owes him anything or that he feels the same mess of emotions as Harry. Worse still, Harry realises that he’s just proven to Louis that he’s just the same as everybody else, pushing and prodding for more information instead of letting it fly free of its own accord. He is a complete and utter twat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's probably no point in reiterating this all the time bc I get it, I get the lazy feels too...why comment when you can just read and scram? However comments are to me, what Louis' arse is to Harry Styles (and the rest of the planet bc really we're all blessed) he he. So yeah, tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, tell me all about your general Larry feels and we'll be pathetic fangirls together I promise. xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I have a request. It's not 100% necessary to enjoy the chapter but I had this song in the back of mind when I wrote the second bonfire scene in this chapter and I dunno, it sort of just sets the mood for me I think.  
> It's called fall by ed sheeran. So if you're willing, here is the version I listened to while writing it and I would listen to it beforehand so you get the full effect/mood when you read (second bonfire) -   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNx3vNxyuss

_Day Twelve_

A stormy eyed Louis gets dragged into the centre by Paul just as Harry shovels in his first mouthful of cereal. Paul's hand is grasping the side of Louis' jacket and his face is murderous as he drags him along. Harry's not altogether certain why it bothers him but perhaps because it was only yesterday that he had stood with his hand grazing Louis' stomach at first before pressing tightly, feeling the muscles clench. Perhaps it's because anyone else touching Louis with any kind of heat in their eyes feels like a sin. God, Harry is a mess. Paul is yelling at Louis now and his loud voice carries over the breakfast tables, people turning to cast a curious eye over Louis who looks plain miserable now.  
  
"You have to eat something okay? You didn't eat dinner last night," Harry sighs, his fists clenching as he thinks about Louis starving himself, "And I am not going to return you to your mother with your bones sticking out every which way. Are we clear?"  
  
Louis nods but he looks less than pleased as he approaches the breakfast table, his eyebrows bunched together with dismay as he collects some kind of wheat flakes in his bowl.  
  
"Haz," Niall calls insistently, like maybe it's not the first time he's said it.  
  
"Yes?" Harry looks back at Niall who sits in his new spot between Zayn and Liam.  
  
The couple have been disturbingly silent this morning and Liam's eyes look red raw from crying. Harry senses their talk did not go as Liam planned.  
  
"Are you just going to stare at him all day or are you going to do something about it? You know…before Nathan gets here and starts chatting you up," Niall says, his expression expectant.  
  
Harry jumps up immediately, the tails of his black trench coat flapping slightly as he casts an erratic look over to Louis who sits in the right hand corner of the centre, as far from Harry as he could possibly get.  
  
"That's what I thought," Niall says, only it sounds more like "ass what I for" because his mouth is fighting not to give way to all the food moving around inside it.  
  
Harry struts determinedly across the room in Louis' direction who's so intent on glaring at his breakfast that he doesn't notice Harry coming until he's already sat down on the seat beside him.  
  
"You should really eat some of that," Harry advises.  
  
Louis' head pops up with shock. When he spies Harry, his blue eyes frost over and he digs his spoon into the bowl forcefully, stuffing the contents in his mouth and chewing viciously.  
  
"Easy there," Harry tries for lightness, "what did those bran flakes ever do to you?"  
  
Louis' spoon freezes midair, mid-plunge and he turns to proffer Harry an unimpressed look.  
  
"Okay, no humour. Right, Plan B," Harry says aloud, running his sweaty palms over his black jeans.  
  
"Louis Tomlinson, I, Harry Styles, hereby apologise for trying to force you to be straight with me before you were ready."  
  
Louis' hair is a soft looking crest on his head today and he looks too damn good to be true in the denim button up that reveals a silky patch of tanned skin around the neckline. Louis doesn't respond, instead keeping his eyes trained on the cereal that's quickly drowning in the expanse of milk.  
  
"....even though I'm not at all straight," Harry says, reintroducing the humour.  
  
There’s a belligerent look and an irritated flick of his blue eyes to go with it. Harry reaches out and pats Louis' chest pocket, feeling the fat wad of notes beneath it and Louis flinches and shuffles further away on the seat.  
  
"Just checking you had your post it notes," Harry explains, "...which means you could talk to me if you wanted to, if you were so inclined."  
  
Louis shakes his head and his eyebrows are sharp diagonals, almost pointed at this point as he refuses to meet Harry's probing look.  
  
"But you're not," Harry translates with a sigh, "of course you're not."  
  
Harry doesn't waste much more time there and Louis doesn't move to stop him when he leaves, traveling back to his table with a defeated expression. Niall is sympathetic at least.  
  
"I'm guessing that didn't go so well by the grumpy look on your face?"  
  
"It went about as well as..." Harry pauses, "about as well as that time you tried caddying for that friend of yours."  
  
The look on Niall's face says "don't remind me" and Harry knows he understands, at least in part.  
  
The buddies and mediators get split into two groups for the day, the buddies going on a walk to town while the mediators basically just hang around and take a break. Harry doesn't know whether to be relieved that he won't have to deal with Louis' insolent looks or disappointed that he won't get a chance to batter down his defences today. However when he spies the tall yet somehow stocky raven haired boy sitting cross legged on the ground next to his tent, he knows he definitely feels a spike of annoyance.  
  
He was hoping to catch up on some sleep as he'd slept fitfully all night, tossing and turning until the birds began to crow and the intrusion of morning light through the semi-transparent fabric of the tent woke him up. Instead, he has to deal with Nathan, who looks like he's trying altogether too hard in a much too tight dark blue shirt and grey slacks, as though he were going for an interview, his dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.  
  
"Nathan," Harry exhales as he approaches, trying not to let too much irritation seep into his tone.  
  
"Harry Styles," Nathan returns with a grin.  
  
Why do the words sound false and flat on his lips when they hold so much potential every time Harry sees them inked across Louis' post it notes?  
  
"Is there something you wanted?" Harry asks, forcing his mouth to smile politely.  
  
"Just a sliver of your time if you don't mind."  
  
Harry takes another evaluative look at the boy. It's not as if he's unattractive per se. His legs are streamlined and quite fit, despite his broad build. His smile although at times a little forceful, is alluring in its pearly white enthusiasm. Maybe Harry just needs to quit letting his mind fill in the blanks with fit arms and tight lipped smiles, with a voluminous bum and soft to the touch hair.  
  
"Course I don't mind. Come in," Harry permits, climbing inside the tent and waiting for Nathan to follow.  
  
Once inside, Nathan sits across from Harry on Louis’ sleeping bag, his legs crossed tightly beneath him as his smile drips off his face like sticky jam. Harry bites his tongue to keep from telling him to get the hell off Louis’ bed.  
  
"Do you want to sit here with me instead?" He says in a weirdly high pitched tone, hating the fact that it sounds like a come on.  
  
Nathan is over eager as he crawls across and seats himself next to Harry, their knees rubbing unpleasantly. Or is it unpleasant? Why is Harry's mind so god damn full of Louis Tomlinson?  
  
"I just wanted to check you were okay. Niall mentioned you had a bit of an argument with Louis," Nathan says now, clamping his hand down on Harry's knee and squeezing slightly.  
  
"He did?" Harry's eyebrows rise.  
  
"I asked him why you left breakfast early. You know, you're usually there when I arrive. So he told me you and Louis weren't getting on and-"  
  
"I wouldn't say we're not getting on," Harry interrupts, face tight, "we're just...he's just.....I did something stupid and he's annoyed. He'll forgive me."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"I tried to force him to talk to me. I asked him to open up before he was ready," Harry sighs.  
  
Nathan's hand drifts further up his leg, inching up his thigh ever so slightly.   
  
"So what? Kid needs to speak some time soon. What's he got against us anyway? He talks at home I hear so why not to us?"  
  
Nathan's voice is harsh and aggressive in the quiet of the tent and Harry's own voice escalates in impatience with his resounding frustration.  
  
"Because we're trying to make him access some part of his history he'd rather forget. Why do you think his mum sends him here? Because if she tries to talk to him about it, he'll shut her out completely. That's why it's up to us...to me really....to show him that it's okay. That even if it's just one person that he talks to about it," Harry takes a laboured breath, "and even if that one person is not me, it's not gonna spell the end of the world."  
  
Nathan's hand rubs up and down across his thigh and Harry's got so much pent up tension flowing through his veins that it kind of soothes him.  
  
"Babe," Nathan says in a nasal tone and it surprises Harry how quickly he's accepted his own new persona, how quickly he's gone from the laddy lad to the guy cracking on to Harry, "you're a superstar really. You're a hero. But maybe Louis' a dead end."  
  
"What?" Harry says through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing to deep green slits of anger.  
  
Nathan's seemingly oblivious as his mouth wobbles with a lazy, self-indulgent smile.  
  
"You know, some people are so," Nathan laughs cruelly as he pauses, "….so damn crazy, they can't go back."  
  
Harry recoils from him like he's been slapped, pushing his hand away from his thigh as though it were venomous.  
  
"Harry," Nathan's expression jolts as he notes Harry's response, "Harry are you okay?"  
  
"I think you should go," Harry manages, stuffing his balled fists underneath his thighs just to halt their itching desire to fly free.  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go," Harry says, his tone glacial.  
  
Nathan's mouth slackens slightly with shock and for a moment, the trace of vulnerability moves Harry to guilt but it's gone with Nathan's last words as he exits the tent.  
  
"Should have known better than to bad mouth him to his over protective boyfriend."  
  
Harry's initial thought is, "yeah you should have." Upon realising how ridiculous that is, he buries his face in his pillow to muffle his loud groan. That's the way he awakens hours later, when someone flutters a light hand across the dip in the centre of his back between his shoulder blades and then lightly trails it down to the dimple at the bottom of his spine. His eyes fly open in shock and he turns over, the hand flying away from his back. Upon looking up, Harry is confronted with Louis’ watery blue eyes.  
  
"Louis?"  
  
Why does Harry's voice sound so god damn needy? Like he'd kiss Louis' feet if he asked. A smile rearranges Louis' features and he pulls a post it note from his pocket, sticking it gently to Harry's forehead as he leans over him, pressing the corners down with a soft push of his tiny thumbs. Harry watches him wide eyed, awe glowing in his eyes. That tight lipped smile before him sends a current through his veins as he pulls the note away and reads.  
  
" _You're forgiven Harry Styles. You missed dinner but I made a plate for you. It's in the fridge."_  
  
Harry's eyes blink up at Louis' with surprise. Always these random acts of kindness. Always these soft smiles and eyes tinged in tenderness. It’s a tenderness that, well it doesn't make sense to say so but it’s a kind of tenderness that sometimes seems reserved for Harry.  
  
"I wish I knew...." Louis strains forward, searching Harry's eyes eagerly as he talks, trying to pull the words from his lips, "never mind."  
  
He can't reveal to Louis how deeply disturbed he is by everything Louis does for him. He doesn't want Louis to know quite how much it moves him, lest he change or worse, stop. Louis reaches forward now and loses his hand in Harry's hair, pushing it all backward and removing the deep tangles with a tiny, self-satisfied smile smudging his strawberry flavoured lips. Harry's eyelashes flutter tellingly but he bites down on the purr/moan trying to fight its way through as Louis lifts his head with one hand and then traces the tangles all the way down to the base of his neck, cupping it slightly before pulling back.  
  
"Bed hair?" Harry asks with a glimmer of amusement.  
  
His coherence has returned now that Louis' stopped touching him.  
  
Louis nods which ironically causes a strand of his gelled fringe to fall across his forehead. Harry raises himself into a sitting position and then grabs the strand, twirling it around his finger before pushing it back into place.  
  
"Your hair's not so crash hot either," he teases.  
  
They share a smile now. It's quiet and full of mutual warmth that curls around their waists, urging them to move together. Yet they stay rooted to the spot, swapping nervous, slightly lingering glances at each other's mouths.  
  
"Bonfire tonight? You'll be there right?" Harry asks, "I mean, the kids aren't allowed...but you're not a kid."  
  
Louis nods now and Harry's spirits lift even more. Tonight might be alright after all.

  
….

  
The night actually sucks. Louis is nowhere to be seen. Niall is too busy playing guitar and singing Irish folk songs to console him and Zayn and Liam are too busy, glaring at each other while they each respectively engage attractive boys in conversation, to be of much help. Nathan spends the time shooting glances Harry's way but never approaching and honestly Harry's only relieved. That is until Niall, the genius, proposes a game of truth of dare and the first thing out of Seth's (Nathan's best friend) mouth is, "I dare Nath to snog Harry."  
  
"I'm not playing," Harry grumbles.  
  
Nathan rounds the fire and comes to stand before Harry, pulling on his hands with a pleading look.  
  
"Please babe. I'm sorry about earlier. You know I didn't mean it, you know I think he's great," Harry fights the urge to scoff, "just...c'mon. It's just a bit of fun."  
  
Harry doesn't know what's gotten into him. Or maybe he does. Louis said he'd be here and he isn't. Louis is one foot in, one foot out and Harry's mind is screaming for something. So he takes it from the only person who's offering, pushing up on his heels to account for Nathan's height as he sinks his fingers into the silky black hair and lets his mouth slide across Nathan's. Nathan stumbles backward a bit in shock but then his hands find the small of Harry's back and his tongue explores Harry's mouth and if Harry's imagining a different face, a different set of lips pushing against his, what does it matter? Who has to know that the burst of pleasure that travels up his spine has little to do with these murky green eyes and pale, spotty skin?  
  
"Harry," Nathan gasps as they pull away.  
  
Harry takes a huge breath and then his eyes slide up and over Nathan's shoulder to the angular, tanned dance that's frozen in place as the shapes created by the flames dance upon it. Harry's mouth suddenly feels cold and he's repulsed by the boy in front of him. His feet carry him around Nathan's body and he starts toward Louis but Louis has unfrozen. His face hardens and he balls his fists before wheeling around and storming away, his arms like two lines of steel that slice through the air violently as his legs carry him away and when Harry makes it back to the tent, Louis is curled up in his ball, facing away. Pulling away once again. Harry doesn't know what to believe at this point. His mind is drowned in the chaos created by the boy at his feet.

_Day Thirteen_

“You look like you’d rather kiss Eleanor than be here with us Haz,” Niall says, always the diplomat.

“Well why do we have to do this stupid team building exercise anyway? We’re not really a team are we?” Harry responds, disgruntlement warping his face.

The four boys are perched around a pile of timber deep in the woods, Liam bringing the axe down upon each log to slice it up into smaller ones while Zayn puffs on a cigarette, keeping his distance from Liam as he slouches up against a tree. Niall and Harry are seated on the ground, watching Liam do all the work.

“Paul wants some more firewood for the bonfire tonight,” Liam says tonelessly.

It’s like quarrelling with Zayn sucks any and all life from his veins. His face is ghost pale with purplish shadows beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and his usual snapback is mysteriously missing. The way Zayn inhales the smoke, squeezing his eyes shut tight as if it’s his only saving grace, Harry thinks he’s not doing much better.

“Don’t know why we have to have another stupid bonfire,” Harry complains, kicking at the leaves beneath his boot clad feat.

Niall raises an eyebrow, cheeks shifting with amusement.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain greasy haired, greasy tongued lad would it?”

“How can you be greasy tongued?” Harry says with confusion.

“Well he’s just an oily character,” Niall huffs.

“You’re actually making no sense whatsoever Niall,” Zayn calls out from his spot by the tree causing Liam’s hands to convulse manically around the handle of the axe, “but I do agree with him Haz.”

“Agree with what?” Harry throws his hands up in defeat.

“That you shouldn’t go around kissing guys like that. Guys who insult the boy you’re actually pining for,” Liam chimes in, bringing the axe down hard on the log.

“It was a dare,” Harry says defensively, “and I’m not pining for Louis.”

“Oh really?” Niall’s eyes are like a glittery blue burst of sunlight on the dreary winter day, “how come you’re so antsy about being away from camp then?”

“I...” Harry falters.

“Yes Mr Styles?”

“I need to talk to him,” Harry says in a rush of breath, “but that doesn’t mean anything!”

“So,” Zayn clarifies now, “it doesn’t mean anything that I watched him storm off right after you kissed Nathan looking like he’d like to rip out his vocal chords and strangle you with them as an alternative to speaking?”

Harry shoots him a derisive look.

“This isn’t high school,” he groans, “it’s not like he’s jealous. It’s not like I’d care even if he was jealous, he’s my buddy.”

“That’s funny,” Liam grunts, “because that’s exactly what it seems like. That he’s jealous.”

Zayn looks up from stubbing out his cigarette at this, his eyebrows pulling up towards his hair and one corner of his mouth tugging up briefly in what Harry assumes to be his semi-impressed look.

“When did you get so sassy?” Harry says with an irritable scowl.

“Probably when you started acting like a tosspot,” Zayn answers for him as Harry’s eyebrows scrunch at the weird insult, “and he had to watch as you started fucking everything up.”

The axe tumbles from Liam’s hands, narrowly missing his foot as it falls to the ground with a loud thump. Liam barely seems to notice as he whips around with watery brown eyes that are edged in sadness. It’s the most acknowledgement Liam’s gotten from Zayn in days. Yet it’s too late, Zayn is already stomping away through the woods, seemingly regretting his words, the leather jacket and ivory toned jeans quickly disappearing. Liam moves to follow but Harry stands and pushes a restraining hand against his chest.

“No, let me,” he says decisively.

Liam’s tone is one of surprise.

“You? What on earth could you say to him?”

Niall backs him up with a hand pressed into his shoulder.

“Haz is a super counsellor remember. He’s counselled the likes of Britney Spears and Amanda Bynes and-“

“Niall,” Harry dissuades, shaking his head at the boy’s odd sense of humour.

“Right, runaway Zayn on the loose….so um, Li just let Harry try. You already tried and it didn’t work. Maybe Harry knows what to say you know,” Niall suggests.

Liam looks between the two and then nods dejectedly. Harry smiles warmly and then squeezes his wrist.

“Promise it will be okay.”

He probably shouldn’t promise such things but if he can’t sort his own head out, he’s sure as hell going to make sure he sorts out the heads of his friends. So before he ducks away to follow Zayn’s path, he turns and whispers in Niall’s ear.

“Talk to him. Tell him about you and Ellie… what things were like before you got together. Don’t tell him about the nasty breakup though.”

“You got it,” Niall murmurs.

So Harry flashes them both one last kindly smile before loping away into the woods at a fast pace, looking for the tell-tale signs of trampled leaves and cigarette ash.

When Harry catches up to Zayn, following the trail of smoke through the rain dampened plants until it leads to a figure drowned in black, he encircles his arm from behind with a tight grip. Zayn gasps and then turns to give Harry a volatile look.  
  
"Harry mate, what the fuck? You don't just sneak up on a bloke in a place like this," he swears, gesturing half-heartedly at the greenery.  
  
Harry shrugs.  
  
"I'm not sure you'd call falling down twice, sneaking up. You're off in your own world clearly."  
  
"What did you follow me for?" Zayn sighs, resting his shoulders up against a tree trunk and looking up at Harry with weary eyes.  
  
"To talk to you about what the fuck you're doing with Liam," Harry says quite bluntly.  
  
"You know I find it strange when you swear. Sounds like 'fook' in that posh accent of yours."  
  
"Zayn," Harry says threateningly.  
  
Zayn knocks his head back against the tree, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
"Okay," he grits out, "I admit it…I don't know what the 'fook' I'm doing either. I'm just....I don't know what he wants from me Harry. I can't change who I am. I've never done more than casual, not really, not like he wants me to...and I'm not about to start."  
  
"But you're in love with him yes?"  
  
"Yes of course," Zayn says quite forcefully, knitting his hands together and tucking them behind his head, "I just wish I fucking wasn't."  
  
"Zayn," Harry reaches out and brushes his shoulder with his hand, "you know relationships aren't as bad as you think. I mean....I haven't really been in...I've not felt," Zayn raises an eyebrow at his incoherence, "I've never been in love....but my mum and my stepdad, they're really happy and I believe that, that can happen. I believe someone can make you happy like that."  
  
"I know he can make me happy," Zayn mutters darkly, "I'm just not sure I can reciprocate."  
  
"He loves you. Of course you can make him happy. Have you seen the look in his eyes when you touch him? It's like...like you bestow this gift on him and he's loathe to take it, thinks it's too much even but he consumes anyway because he can't help the way he feels about you. He can’t help but breathe you in."  
  
Zayn looks a touch dazed.  
  
"God Harry. How do you do that?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
Harry's completely bewildered.  
  
"Tell people exactly what they need to hear. Make me thing that maybe..."  
  
Zayn bites down hard on his lip.  
  
"Maybe?" Harry prompts.  
  
"Maybe I should tell him I'm in love with him," he finishes, looking caught between accomplished and terrified.  
  
"He doesn't even know that much?" Harry asks, glaring at Zayn, "no wonder he's a bloody mess. Honestly Zayn."  
  
Harry shakes his head in disappointment.  
  
"He's a mess?"  
  
Zayn’s voice is cautiously hopeful as he pulls away from the tree, looking directly at Harry for confirmation.  
  
"I guess you haven't seen the look on his face the past few days. He's a wounded puppy."  
  
"And I'm the one who wounded him."  
  
Zayn's voice breaks and Harry sighs and draws him into a tight hug.  
  
"I've gotta try, don't I? Even if I lose him," Zayn mumbles into his shoulder.  
  
Harry runs a soft hand down the back of his hair, comforting.  
  
"Well if you don't, you'll lose him anyway. But Zayn," he pulls back now, sending the boy a soft smile, "you won't screw it up."  
  
"I'm glad we met, Harry," Zayn says sincerely, an equally soft smile curling around his lips, "I'm sorry about giving you so much shit about Louis."  
  
Harry grins, shrugging with his whole body.  
  
"It bonded us and hey, I probably deserved it. I don't know what I'm doing with him. I don't know what he's doing with me."  
  
Zayn squeezes the side of his waist, reassuring.  
  
"I won't say anything apart from this. The lad's got more in his heart for you than you realise."  
  
As they walk back to camp together, silent as they deal with their own respective crises, Harry thinks through Zayn's words trying to reconcile them with the image of Louis that he has in his mind. Something just doesn't add up. Louis shows him kindness and gentleness sure and maybe it really is exclusive to him but Louis doesn't trust him. Louis just seems compelled to meet him with compassion. It can’t be a sign of something greater, can it?  
  
Harry climbs into his tent and stills completely at the sight that his eyes behold. Louis' half of the tent is empty. No bright red sleeping bag pushed up against the canvas wall, no clothes spilling out of his bag in the corner and no large green jacket splayed over the midnight black pillow. There's nothing left. No trace of him ever being here.

Harry's heart is thumping loud in his ears as he considers the possibilities. Something awful must have happened. There’s an escalating tension in his blood that feels like a horrifying premonition. Maybe his past finally got to him. Maybe it was all too much for him to handle. No. No. Harry's eyes are stinging and his whole body feels cold as he tears out of the tent and scans the grounds for Paul, his breathing erratic. His heart is pumping so loud, echoing like a grandfather clock chiming at midnight inside his head and he's gasping for oxygen as he pictures Louis' broken body, Louis' bright blue eyes closed forever. Louis’ pursed pink lips frozen over with the white frost of death. Never to impart the sweet melody Harry knows they’re holding inside. No.

Harry slams into something small. Something small and soft. There are hands on either sides of his waist and oceanic blue eyes assessing him with concern as he sways unsteadily. Finally his eyes focus on the object before him. Louis. Oh god, it’s Louis.

“Louis,” he gasps, sliding his arms beneath Louis’ own arms and around his waist, pulling him tightly against his body.

He doesn’t let go even as tiny fists beat against his back and angry tension flows through Louis’ body to his own.

“What did you…?” Harry pauses as he draws back, revelling even in the angry spark lighting up Louis face because at least he’s okay, “why did you leave? Your stuff…it’s not in the tent.”

Louis sighs, impatient and then leans his post it notes against Harry’s shoulder, pressing down aggressively as he writes. He rips the note away and hands it to Harry.

“ _I wanted my own tent. Paul gave me permission.”_

Harry feels hurt squirming in his chest.

“You wanted to get away from me that badly?” Harry asks, lips turned down.

Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond with script. Harry takes it as confirmation.

“Right,” Harry gulps, “got it.”

He turns and marches away. His bottom lip is not trembling. His cheeks are not reddened with humiliation. He doesn’t care about one Louis Tomlinson. Not anymore. Not now.

……

Nathan's mouth is hot and insistent against Harry's as Harry scrunches the back of his brown corduroy jacket in his fist, pulling him infinitely closer as their bodies slide up against one another. Harry's veins feel cool though, populated by blood that coagulates in the places where it hurts. In the places bruised by a blue eyed boy who doesn't want anything to do with him.  
  
"Harry," Nathan breathes raggedly, resting his forehead against the hollow of Harry's neck, "don't get me wrong, I love this mood you're in but what's gotten into you? You walked away from me last night."  
  
The flames that are spiking and spitting behind Nathan's shoulder illuminate the circle of darkness around the bonfire. It reveals a few mediators who have invited their girlfriends and are currently switching between swigging beer and kissing the girls sitting atop their laps, their boyfriend’s thick coats bunching at their waists. Harry's not thinking of a thick green jacket hanging over a small boy's body, bunching around his waist as his eyes turned to greet Harry's.  
  
"Nothing. Why so much talking?" Harry whines, lifting Nathan's head by the chin, "less talking, more kissing."  
  
"Since you asked so nicely," Nathan says with a smirk, curling his arm around Harry's waist to press their bodies together.  
  
Harry's only response is to join their lips once more, sucking savagely now as he tries to erase two weeks of idiocy. Two weeks of hoping he could change something that he can't. Nathan breaks away again and Harry is just about to protest but then he is effectively silenced by the distracting trail of kisses traveling down his neck to the line of his shirt. It's not altogether unpleasant.  
  
Of course that's when Harry gets déjà vu as Louis appears seemingly out of thin air, though Harry knows that his body must have been simply shrouded in darkness. His hair is crested again upon the centre of his head and he's clothed in the same dark, ripped jeans he'd worn earlier but he's swapped a loose Harley Davison shirt for a dark ruby button down that pulls tight in all the right places. His green jacket is loped over his arm. Harry closes his eyes to the image, running his hand over Nathan's hair whose hands rake over the sides of his body.  
  
When he opens them again, Louis is still there. He hasn't left. Of course he hasn't you idiot, Harry intones. Why would he care that you're basically getting your rocks off in front of him? Yet it's curious that Louis' seated himself by the fire, toasting a marshmallow with his eyes directed only one way; in Harry's direction. It begs the question, what reason does Louis have to turn up to a mediator event? An event where he's not going to talk to anybody?  
  
It confuses Harry. Louis' eyes are hooded, burning with something that makes desire and foolish butterflies dance in Harry's belly even as Nathan nips at his neck. Music sings out over the camp, playing from an iPod dock set up by Nathan earlier. As Louis continues to consume Harry’s eyes with his own, his blue eyes effervescent and deadly in their intensity, the words drift out and across Harry’s skull. He begins to feel that they must be painted across his forehead as he matches Louis stare for stare.  
  
" _And I will fall for you,_ _  
and I will fall for you,  
and if I fall for you,   
would you fall too?_ "  
  
Harry's skin is starting to crawl as Nathan mouths sloppily over the underside of his chin so he pushes him away gently.  
  
"You okay?" Nathan asks with swollen lips and hazy green eyes.  
  
"Fine," Harry muffles, "I just....I'd like to get to know you a bit better."  
  
"Why?" Nathan says cynically, "it's just kissing."  
  
"Well I don't kiss just anyone," Harry snaps.  
  
"Alright alright, I'm sorry," Nathan says with a roll of his eyes, "what do you wanna know?"  
  
....  
  
It's been thirty minutes of questioning and Harry is already itching to get away. He's bloody freezing and he'd really like his jacket right about now. Louis' stopped watching him so intensely but he's also moved disconcertingly close, sitting near to the fire just a metre away, back turned but within hearing distance. Harry's almost certain he hears a scoff and a soft, derisive laugh every now and then as Nathan provides an answer to one of Harry's questions. He could be imagining it though. The same way he imagined the fact that Louis might actually be starting to soften.  
  
Harry starts to drop hints that he'd like to return to his tent, complaining about the cold and rubbing his arms intermittently. Nathan's on a roll though, gabbing on about some death metal band that Harry couldn't care less about. He passes the time counting the amount of times Louis cocks his head to the left, like he's trying to hear better.  
  
"I'm c-c-cold," Harry whines, his teeth actually chattering at this point.  
  
"Aw babe," Nathan coos, bringing his hands up to rub against Harry's arms.  
  
"Let me warm you up," he says now in what he probably thinks is a seductive tone.  
  
He presses closer but just as his lips inch closer to Harry's, an olive toned hand shoots out between them stuffing a rough object in Harry's hands that feels woollen and soft on the inside. Harry looks down at it confused but the flames don't touch it and the darkness shrouds it, preventing identification.  
  
"What the hell?" Nathan exclaims.  
  
Harry raises his head, about to ask Louis what it is he’s presented him with but there's only darkness when he looks up. Nathan's glare carries across the area to the tents.  
  
"If he fucking comes back…if he tries that again," he threatens.  
  
Harry ignores him, stepping into the circle of light, his eyes bugging out as they fall on the object in his arms. Louis' green jacket. Louis' prized possession. He gave it to Harry....to keep him warm. Harry's world quiets as the knowledge sinks in and he eagerly stuffs his arms through the sleeves, not even bothering to resist inhaling Louis' scent that rises up. It's deep, heady cologne intermingling with something more natural and Harry is at a loss to describe the feelings coursing through him right now.

As Nathan ducks away to the centre to grab a drink, Harry hightails it back to the tent forgetting in his eagerness to see Louis that Louis no longer occupies it. When he climbs through the tent and spies the empty space, his whole throat closes over. He doesn't know which tent is Louis' and he can't just go barging in on people, waking them up, all because this boy he met two weeks ago has him reeling with this thrill in his veins.

It means something. It has to mean something. So though Harry wishes Louis were here with him, he falls asleep with a small, tranquil smile on his face, the symbolism of the gesture burned into his brain as he snuggles into the jacket, refusing to take it off even as the buttons press uncomfortably into his side. He knows it's cliched and downright sappy but Harry can't help thinking....he's clothed in the deepest, most vulnerable part of Louis' soul. He feels warmer than he ever has in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my heart swelled just as much as it does when I see louis fonding over harry or vice versa when I read your lovely comments. Thank you thank you thank you. I love you like Harry loves to sing little things to Lou. Feel free to um..continue...if you'd like :P  
> p.s the next chapter is going to make you feel things, at least I hope


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, THE chapter.   
> Please let me know if you feel things. Please let me know if you don't. Please let me know if you had a bad day or a good one or your favourite colour is dark grey..I want to hear it all, I'm all ears :D BUT....feedback would be nice. I love you all for your brilliant comments xo

_Day Fourteen_

Harry wakes up bright and early and very determined. He’s not sure how he knows he’ll find Louis there but when he makes it down to the river bank, there he is, fringe flattened across his forehead today and looking incredibly soft. Harry would like to sift his fingers through it.

“Louis,” he says softly, the sound carrying over the rolling planes of the bank.

Louis looks up at him and then eyes the object in his arms with a little crease at the top of his nose. Harry’s forefinger aches to smooth it over. His fingers twitch tellingly by his side. Harry sits down beside Louis and places the jacket in his lap, his hand gently smoothing it over Louis’ thigh before he reluctantly draws away.

“Thank you,” he says, meeting the pull of Louis’ wide eyes with a delicate tug of his own.

Louis writes a note upon his knee.

“ _Wear a jacket next time”_

Harry can feel the annoyance emanating from the paper fluttering in the breeze as it’s pressed into his hands. The words bear that token regret. Louis regrets it. Of course.

“I didn’t ask you to lend it to me,” Harry says more aggressively than he initially intended.

Louis looks up from his lap with fury. Another viciously written note.

“ _Should have just let your boyfriend slobber all over you to warm you up. Looked like you were having a good time.”_

Harry snaps. He jumps to his feet and watches Louis’ nostrils flare. Harry’s breathing hot and heavy by this point.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” He spits, balling his fists and watching Louis facial muscles unclench slightly, “but so what if he was? He happens to care about me,” Louis scoffs, “he’s not just nice to me whenever he feels like it or whenever it suits him. He doesn’t regret it when he is.”

Louis’ eyes narrow at this.

“God Louis,” Harry sighs, stamping his foot a little, “it’s like sometimes….sometimes it’s like you might care, like you might actually feel some semblance of something but you keep blocking it,” Louis’ composure slips a little as his mouth quivers, “and I shouldn’t push, I should be helping you. You’re my buddy. I know I’m…I’m too invested but I just, I thought we could be friends or…I dunno, something.”

Louis turns his face away, his jaw clenched tight as he refuses to meet Harry’s anger.

“I don’t understand,” Harry gasps and then his voice shrinks, breaking slightly, embarrassingly “sometimes it’s like you god damn hate me.”

Louis’ eyes shoot up to his and they’re completely torn, something frustrated and pained situated at the centre but around it, only blankness and a distance Harry can’t cross. He’s spent enough time trying to get inside. This time, it’s he who flees, stomping back to camp where he runs straight into Liam.

“Harry!” Liam exclaims, a broad smile on his face as he grasps Harry’s shoulder.

“Yes?”

Harry runs a hand across his eye and down the side of his cheek in a tired gesture. Liam seemingly ignores it.

“Thank you so much!”

Liam is positively glowing and Harry wants to feel happy for him. He wants to let the sparkling sunshine in Liam’s brown eyes seep into his own body but his whole being aches for something that’s never coming, for someone he shouldn’t want but yearns for anyway. The cold is in his bones.

“Zayn spoke to you?” Harry guesses, hoping the effort involved isn’t noticeable as he pushes the corners of his lips up.

“You bet he did,” Liam says, almost proudly, grinning from ear to ear, “and we’re going to try. We’re going to be proper boyfriends. Harry…whatever you said, however you got through to him,” he clutches the side of Harry’s arm, “thank you.”

Harry knows his smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it will have to do.

“It’s my pleasure. You both deserve to be happy. You’re wonderful together,” he says truthfully.

Liam’s grin softens to a deeper, closed mouth smile. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“I hope we will continue to be.”

“I hate to be rude Li but I really think I should lie down. Whatever activity we have planned for today…can you just tell Paul I’m not well?”

Liam raises an eyebrow.

“And Louis?”

“What about Louis?” Harry says darkly, his blood still boiling from their earlier interaction.

“Well he won’t have anyone to work with. We’re doing woodwork today,” Liam says by way of explanation.

“I’m sure he can work something out,” Harry says through clenched teeth, “it’s not like he’d want me there anyway.”

Liam rolls his eyes.

“What?”

Harry’s voice is sharp and Liam backs away from him slightly.

“Look I don’t know what’s gotten into you mate but honestly, Louis’ changed so much since he met you. Maybe you don’t see it, you’re too caught up in the way he changes from moment to moment but Haz,” Liam shakes him by the shoulder, “I knew him before this. You forget that. I’ve never seen him smile or laugh like that with one of us. Only around the other kids.”

It’s not what Harry wants to hear. He won’t be dissuaded from his anger right now.

“I need to lie down. My head is killing me,” he says dismissively.

Liam frowns at him, clearly disappointed but Harry doesn’t let it affect him, barrelling past him to reach his tent. Once inside he lays down and pulls out his phone, dialling the familiar number.

“Harry love!” Comes the cheerful, feminine voice.

A little of the anger eating away at Harry dissipates in its wake.

“Lou,” Harry sighs with relief before cringing as the name that falls from his lip now conjures images of blue, blue eyes.

“Long time, no speak Harry,” Lou chides, “You’ve not been in to get your hair cut in ages.”

Harry reaches up to fondle his loose curls as he talks.

“I’ve been growing it a bit,” Harry admits, grinning to himself now, “but you’re still my favourite Lou. Promise to come see you when I get back from camp.”

“So why you calling lovey? It’s obviously not about your luscious locks.”

Harry’s dimples deepen. Lou is so the right person to talk to when he’s in a destructive mood.

“Just wanted to have a bit of a chat,” Harry says, tracing a heart shape into the roof of the tent.

“Boy problems,” Lou deduces quickly, “ah so are we looking for a diagnosis? Fixable or terminal?”

Harry laughs but it’s a little half-hearted as he wonders if things with Louis really are terminal. It kind of sickens him.

“I think I already know,” he says quietly, “I mean…I shouldn’t even be feeling this way, he’s my buddy.”

“Harry!” Lou yells, high pitched and horrified, “Don’t tell me it’s a young boy!”

Harry laughs for real now, a deep belly laugh that dissolves into childish giggles.

“No,” he says, still shaking with humour, “he’s 18. Special entrance on the camp. He’s got….issues.”

“Don’t they all?”

“Well yeah,” Harry concedes, “but his are….well…no one really knows what happened to him. He won’t speak. I sort of took it upon myself to bend his will, maybe by pretending not to. It seemed like it was working, like maybe he was letting me in, even if it was one step forward, two steps back but then I….then I….I don’t know somewhere along the way I-“

“Fell for him?” Lou interrupts.

Harry hesitates, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing slightly as he considers it.

“I don’t…it feels so… I’ve never…”

“Harry love,” Lou says, fond exasperation colouring her tone.

“Yeah Lou?”

“Your head is absolutely in the clouds. He’s got you. Hook, line and sinker,” she says, sounding delighted.

Harry rubs at his forehead, tense all over.

“Feels like all that, that would be capable of doing is ruing everything. I mean for starters how can I help him if I’m…if I, if I feel anything like that? And then it’s just,” Harry takes an unsteady breath, “I think he hates me. I think he wishes he never met me.”

Lou snorts.

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry Edward Styles. Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because he’s always pushing me away and not the way he pushes everybody else away, it’s more forceful.”

“Maybe you scare him more than everybody else?” Lou suggests.

Harry’s stomach pipes up at this, twisting strangely but no. No. Louis doesn’t look scared, he just looks angry at Harry’s constant intrusion.

“I’ve….I’ve got to go,” Harry says quickly, wanting some silent time now.

He needs some time to digest.

“Okay but Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Wear something lovely tonight. Let your Harry-centric hair down and have a good time. You know there’s nothing more enticing than that!”

“I’m not trying to entice him Lou,” Harry says, shaking his head at her.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t be enticed,” she says with a loud trill of a laugh.

“Bye Lou,” he says blandly before hanging up the phone.

Harry eyes the picture beside his pillow with indignation.

“I’m not dressing up for him mum,” Harry says adamantly, “it’s not like he cares.”

…..

Harry's not watching Louis bounce Benji up and down on his knee, tickling his tummy and whispering things in his ear that momentarily halt the desperate sobbing. Harry had been in the midst of conversation with Nathan, standing close to the fire to keep warm because (like an idiot) he didn't bring a jacket again, when he heard the ear splitting wail. When he turned around, Louis was there in a dark green hoodie and black jeans, looking way too cuddly.

He looked as though he'd just woken, sporting slightly messy, fuzzy hair that Harry's hands had automatically twitched at the sight of. He wanted to comb through that soft mess with even softer hands. Louis’ eyes blinked rapidly, as though pained from being forced open but he held Benji's hand in his, eventually picking him up and hoisting him onto his hip. Harry's heart swelled watching as Beni hiccupped his sobs into Louis' neck, his tiny body heaving as he pulled on the green material of Louis’ jumper.  
  
"Would you excuse me?" Harry says now, touching the inside of Nathan's elbow to soften the blow.  
  
"Why?" Nathan asks, tone harsh, "you're always bloody walking off on me."  
  
"I'll be back. It's Benji. Just talk to your mates yeah?"  
  
Nathan nods but his eyes are sharp and he turns away silently as Harry stalks across the ground to Louis and Benji where they sit in one of the white, plastic chairs arranged haphazardly around the fire. Harry had promised himself he wouldn't dress up for the bonfire but when he'd donned the tight, baby pink fitted shirt and his tightest jeans, spraying a spritz of cologne, he'd told himself it was for Nathan. Yet when Nathan had met him outside his tent and his eyes had roved over Harry, from the curls that tickled his ears and brushed the edges of his face to the shiny pair of pink boots that Harry is secretly...or not so secretly...in love with, all he’d done was laugh.   
  
"You really are gay," he'd sniggered cruelly, grabbing Harry's waist and pulling their bodies together, "such a good faggot babe."  
  
Harry fought the urge to shove him away. He needed a distraction and Nathan was his only option. Now as he walks over to Louis, he feels Louis' eyes catch in his, determinedly angry at first even as he bounces the boy on his knee. Yet then those sky blue eyes open up, hooking into him in different places, taking in the shirt, the jeans plastered to his long legs and finally the boots. Is Harry mistaken or is that a touch of hesitant approval in his eyes, perhaps even awe? He must be mistaken.  
  
He's not sure why he loses control over his limbs around Louis, even when he's mad at him but his hand ghosts down the small of Louis' back as he sits down beside him, leaning forward to whisper covertly in his ear.  
  
"Bad dream?"  
  
Louis jolts at the touch of Harry's fingers and Harry realises himself, pulling his hand back immediately. Louis nods and then returns to his task, petting Benji's hair as the boy continues to sob more quietly now.  
  
"Let me?" Harry asks Louis, reaching his arms out for Benji.  
  
Louis' mouth twists as he considers it and then he lifts Benji up off his knee and hands him to Harry, their hands brushing slightly in the process which sends a shock through Harry's system.  
  
"Benji," Harry greets the despairing boy as Benji snuggles into his stomach, "how you doing mate? You okay?"  
  
Benji shakes his blonde head, his full bottom lip trembling. Harry's completely endeared by the look of concentration in his eyes as he tries to stem tears but the fat droplets of water continue to ooze out the sides anyway.  
  
"H..h...had a b...b....bad dream," he hiccups with a wobbly voice.  
  
"What happened in the dream little man?" Harry asks, running a hand across his hair.  
  
Harry tries not to notice Louis' eyes caressing his face in such a way that's both intensely penetrating and unbearably soft. It's much too distracting.  
  
"I-got-lost-in-the-woods-and-no-one-could-find-me," Benji keens without breath.  
  
Harry's hand rubs soothingly over Benji's back and he's so consumed with how to stop the crying that he doesn't notice the other hand there, brushing Benji's back in slow downward strokes, until it collides with his own. His eyes meet Louis' and there's that understanding again, that connectivity that pools in Harry's stomach and bursts into rays of sunshine in Louis' eyes.  
  
"Ah," Harry says dumbly, forcibly removing his eyes from Louis', "Benji, I promise you that would never happen. You're not going to go into the woods alone are you?"  
  
Benji sniffs.  
  
"No Harry," his tiny voice sounds unusually exasperated for his age and Louis' amused smile answers Harry's own as their eyes reflect equal fondness, "but what if I get left in there?"  
  
"Who on earth would leave a tiny little Rugrat like you, in the forest?" Harry exclaims, pretending to look around for such people as Benji lets out a choked giggle, "I'll never let it happen!"  
  
Louis' smile is inching further up his face as he squeezes Benji's side and leans forward to whisper something in the boy's ear that makes his cheeks bounce with a very adorably loud and delighted giggle.  
  
"What did he say?" Harry demands, smile perched on his lips as he eyes Louis curiously.  
  
"He said," Benji lets out another giggle, tiny fingers pressed against his mouth as he tries to contain it, "he said, 'me and Harreh will protect you from any Benji snatchers if you ever get lost.'"  
  
Harry's laugh is a soft chime in the night air and Louis’ eyes soak it up, revelling in the sound appreciatively.  
  
"He's right," Harry says, nodding very seriously, "we will see to it that you are safe young prince."

Another wet sounding giggle.

“Time for bed then?” Harry asks now.

Benji’s hand hooks in his shirt, pulling insistently.

“I want to stay up with you and Louis. Please Harry,” he says desperately.

Kid’s got a gift for the dramatics. A smile paints Harry’s lips as he unhooks the hand from his shirt and stands up, hoisting Benji up higher so he doesn’t fall.

“C’mon kid, we gotta get you to bed. Because you know who hangs out around here…at this time?” Harry whispers, his eyes trailing past Benji’s little face to the pursed smile on Louis’ face as he watches on.

“Who?” Benji says, eyes wide.

Harry beckons for him to move his face closer to Harry’s and then whispers oh so quietly.

“Benji snatchers.”

Benji giggles, clearly disbelieving. However he stretches his arms out in Louis’ direction anyway, who still sits watching them, one leg positioned artfully across the other, his rough looking white TOMS forming a sharp comparison with Harry’s sparkling boots.

“Louis, carry me,” Benji pleads.

Louis gets up now, coming to stand just behind Harry. He leans forward and brushes his nose against Benji’s in an eskimo kiss, a hand resting on Harry’s back for support. Quite pathetically, this causes Harry’s eyes to fluter closed for a moment. Louis whispers something to Benji and then Benji smiles sweetly up at Harry.

“You can take me Harry,” he says politely.

Louis bops him on the nose and then moves back to his chair. Harry turns fractionally and raises his eyebrows at Louis who simply smiles and motions for them to leave. Harry carries Benji back to his tent, tucking him in and singing him to sleep. He pushes the white-blonde hair away and leaves a kiss on Benji’s s forehead, listening to the tiny breaths he lets out in sleep before smiling to himself as he walks languidly back to the bonfire.

When he reaches the fire, Nathan and Louis are positioned at opposite poles of the fire just as before, Nathan engaged in conversation with some mates while Louis is seemingly watching for Harry’s return. Harry quickly makes his decision, striding purposefully towards his target and folding himself up in the white chair.

“So you really are a child whisperer, it seems” Harry observes, a musical note to his tone.

He glances at Louis out of the corner of his eye and finds him distracted, or at least trying to look distracted, staring down at the seam of his jeans as if it holds all the answers to the questions inside his tormented mind.

Louis doesn’t pull the sticky notes from the pocket of the hoodie where Harry can spot them currently housed until Harry notes with a curious edge to his voice,

“You’ve not got your jacket.”

Louis bites his lip as he writes and Harry’s tempted to tug it out from beneath the cut of his teeth but he does no such thing.

“ _It smells like you.”_

Harry sniffs exaggeratedly at his shirt which smells only of his cologne.

“Smells alright to me,” he deduces with a raised eyebrow.

Louis just rolls his eyes.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” Harry says quietly.

The stars glitter in Louis’ eyes as he looks up at Harry with frustration creasing his face.

“Right, I’m intruding again,” Harry sighs, clapping his hands down against his thighs before standing up, “I’ll just leave you and your thoughts alone.”

Louis just looks away, out to the woods, his eyes vacant. So Harry traipses back around the fire to Nathan, winding his arms around his waist from behind.

“There you are,” Nathan says, kissing him briefly, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I was just over there,” Harry says annoyed, transferring his eyes to Louis who’s watching him now with an openly baleful look.

“Oh,” Nathan grins, amused but Harry’s purely irritated by his idiocy, “well there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Yes?” Harry says impatiently.

“Will you,” Nathan pauses, eyes darting across the fire to Louis, his expression morphing into one of pure triumph, his eyes glinting evilly as his lips turn up and he raises his voice, “be my boyfriend?”

His mates wolf whistle behind him and it’s ridiculous really, the same buffoons who had laughed at the way he’d bullied Louis for potentially being gay, now rallying him on. Harry supposes it’s not really about sexuality. They’ll just follow anyone who gives them something to yell obscenities at. There’s too many eyes on him and Harry knows the most important pair are burning into the side of his head right now but he can’t bring himself to look. This is the moment he decides between rational and irrational, between what’s on offer, what’s tangible and that elusive feeling he’s not sure he’ll ever truly grasp.

“Yes,” he gasps and it feels like physical pain in his chest.

Nathan’s arms wind around him and his lips press down into his, opening his mouth immediately. Yet just as their tongues meet, Nathan is ripped away, an angry, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” spilling from his lips as somebody pushes him away violently. Harry comes face to face with Louis who looks incensed with rage, his eyes burning him where he stands but Harry barely has time to think on it. Louis pushes up on his heels and Harry instinctively grabs his waist to steady him. He pulls Harry down by the collar of his shirt, bringing their lips together in a cataclysmic union that feels like fireworks and wax melting down the inside of Harry all at the same time.

Louis’ lips brush against his once, twice, a third time, tasting, teasing, as though Louis’ just getting his bearings, gently delving into the sensation that is kissing Harry. Harry understands completely but he wants more. He needs to be possessed. His hands slip around Louis’ sides to grip his bum without thought, squeezing possessively as he sucks savagely on Louis’ upper lip, their tongues finally meeting which causes Harry to groan and Louis to pull tighter on his collar, fisting it compulsively. Louis tongue darts out, tracing the planes of his own delicately but Harry has no such reservations licking into Louis’ mouth with reckless abandon.

Louis tries to pull away after a few moments but Harry’s not done and he cups Louis’ bum, pressing him against his body as he brushes his mouth over his bottom lip, then his top and finally traces the seam of his mouth with his tongue. All the while, Louis breathes hot and heavy, his hands loosening around Harry’s collar as if in defeat. Finally, Harry releases him and they both gasp, their eyes opening and meeting in a collision of heat and want. Harry’s cheeks redden as logic returns and he hates himself for his little show of desperate need.

Harry is so dazed, so overwhelmed and completely caught up in this moment unfolding before him that nothing can prepare him for what comes next. Louis’ eyes fill with liquid but he holds it back, his mouth quivering. He steps back into Harry’s space and then cups Harry’s cheek, his eyes tracing Harry’s face so delicately, roaming across his eyes and searching for something. Searching for trust, for certainty, for the same unshakable connection they’ve felt these past two weeks and have denied so uselessly. Then his eyes drift almost unconsciously down to Harry’s mouth and Harry wants to kiss him again immediately.

As he leans forward, Louis’ hand moves to grip the side of his face and the slides through his curls so pleasingly that he near purrs. Then, _it_ happens. His mouth, his exquisite mouth, opens and shapes itself around the words. It’s a declaration that sounds musical, somehow soft like satin but yet equally rough and unchecked. Like the smokiness of the bonfire mingling with the creamy smell of cheese melting over pasta. Louis’ thumbs move to trace the colour of the contours in Harry’s cheeks before trailing down to brush tenderly across his mouth as he recites the words.

 _“_ Exquisite creature,

The roses that bloom beneath your cheeks,

The swell of your smile,

Shall stain this mind for weeks _.”_

Harry is all on fire within. Louis spoke. Louis spoke. His voice is like moisturiser being rubbed into Harry’s skin in soft circles, getting into the cracks and crevices that Harry never knew existed. Making him want more. His hands come up to cradle Louis’ face now, their arms brushing as they hold each other, the same watery smile poised on both of their lips.

“You spoke. You just spoke,” Harry says, dumbfounded, his voice abnormally hoarse, “It was you. Of course it was you who wrote that. How could I have thought otherwise?”

The moment is then interrupted as a hand clamps down on Louis’ shoulder pulling him away from Harry.

“That’s my boyfriend you’re kissing mate,” Nathan says viciously.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Harry corrects with sharp eyes, “that was a stupid mistake on my part. You fucking lied. You got that line from Louis. You didn’t write that poem at all.”

Nathan snorts.

“So what? It’s a bunch of words on a page. I can speak like a normal human being, I don’t need to dress it up in pretty words on a page,” He says angrily, eyes flashing.

“If you say one more derogatory thing about him,” Harry threatens, pressing close.

Louis pushes him back just as quickly with an authoritative look.

“Good,” Nathan says approvingly, “I’d rather hit you than him.”

Harry cries out in shock as Nathan’s hand slices through the air and finds its target, smashing into Louis’ nose and sending him sprawling to the ground as blood spurts out horrifically.

Harry pays no mind to the monster whose laughter gradually trails away into the distance, as he bends down over Louis' broken form. Louis’ on his knees now, a hand covering his bleeding face.

"Louis, Lou are you okay?" Harry says panicked, his hands fluttering about uselessly.

He slides his arms beneath Louis, even as he nods to convey he’s fine and lifts him up into his arms. Louis' arms go around his neck, no hesitation this time and Harry carries him all the way to first aid. When he lays him down on the stretcher, Louis tugs on his collar to pull him down, gripping Harry's jaw and turning his face so his ear is poised just before Louis' mouth.

"I don't hate you Harold," he whispers, a touch of the pain he must be feeling apparent in his voice.

"It's Harry."

Harry slams his hand against his forehead as he regrets he idiotic, automatic response to the misuse of his name. Yet it causes Louis to laugh, a shot of pure, contagious warmth that fills the tent and erases any of Harry's embarrassment with its melodic sound. Harry had texted Niall on the way to go get a nurse, preferably not Eleanor. He makes use of his time now as they wait, bending down beside Louis and running a shaky hand through his fringe, unsure if it's okay to touch. Yet Louis makes no protest, verbal or otherwise. In fact he presses up against Harry's hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I hate to bring this up when you're indisposed as such," Harry says formally, watching Louis eyes flicker open again, "but you can't just kiss me like that, say those words and then just shut your pretty little mouth again."

A slow grin tugs at the corner of Louis’ mouth. Harry grabs a washcloth from the makeshift table and uses a bottle of water to dampen it, wiping the blood away from Louis' nose as he narrows his eyes.

"Oh shh," he chides, "I'm allowed to say you have a pretty mouth. I feel no shame."

However the colour in his cheeks begs to differ. Louis reaches up and thumbs at it gently. Harry clasps his wrist, keeping his hand there.

"What's going on Louis? You give me your jacket and then seemingly regret that. Yet you come and kiss me tonight. Like _that_ …like you couldn’t breathe and I was oxygen and you, you wrote that poem for me," Harry lets out a deep breath, "thank you for that."

Louis simply shakes his head, pulling his hand away with sad eyes. Not today, his eyes say. Not now.

"You're not going to speak again? We're not going to talk about this now are we?" Harry sighs, defeated.

Louis shakes his head. Harry rubs away some more of the blood, cradling Louis’ face gently before getting up to leave. Louis tugs on the edge of his shirt just before he does.

"Exquisite," he whispers, letting his deep eyes rake up and down Harry's body slowly to emphasise his point.                                                                                                                    

When Harry passes Eleanor on his way out, he doesn't even feel a hint of annoyance. He kissed Louis. Louis kissed him. Louis thinks he's exquisite.

_Day Fifteen_

Harry’s dreams are interrupted by his sleeping bag dusting light fingers over his swallow tattoos. He’d fallen asleep without bothering with his usual pyjama ensemble. What did it matter when Louis was no longer sharing the tent and there was no possibility of him feeling uncomfortable? What did anything matter when Louis thought he was exquisite? Harry’s brain suddenly kicks into gear and his eyes fly open. Sleeping bags don’t have fingers. His world is only Louis’ shy blue eyes and the deep blush of his tanned skin as he’s caught in the act.

Harry’s eyes register the return of Louis’ stuff to its former places, all of it except the sleeping bag and Louis himself which are situated so close to Harry, he can practically feel the warmth emanating from Louis’ skin. There’s a soft light in the tent, the slight hint of dawn shining through the transparent sheen of the fabric and it exposes the flecks of nervousness in Louis’ eyes as he begins to pull his hand from the tattoos he’d been tracing while Harry slept on, devastatingly oblivious. Harry stops him, encircling his wrist and pressing his hand down firmly over one of the swallows. Louis gulps, clearly overwhelmed.

“Louis,” Harry says in hushed tones, not bothering to curb the reverence in his eyes for once, “you’re bac-“

Louis pushes his fingers against Harry’s lips, forcing the words back in as though speech were something contemptuous in this moment. It probably is. Harry’s not sure if Louis’ afraid he’ll try to get him to talk again or if he just wants to be with Harry like this, without words, with only gentle, teasing brushes of their skin and the cosmic force that is the union of their eyes. It doesn’t matter too much. Harry is content.

 He’s content enough to forget for now that he promised he’d never abuse his power like this, that he’d never let himself indulge. He’s content enough to forget that Louis has a past, a past that won’t so easily be silenced and that eventually will have to come screaming to the surface if any of this is to work. He’s so at peace, he can’t bring himself to banish the crinkles of happiness around Louis’ eyes with a request for words. Instead, he brings his hand up and brushes the back of his palm along them, watching carefully as another block in Louis’ eyes melts away and his smile deepens.

There’s something to touching like this, to being with someone like this that is just intensely intimate. It’s almost as though Louis has offered him another universe in his silence. Harry knows it can’t stay this way, that words hold too much power to be given over completely but in the soft silence of dawn when it’s just HarryandLouis and they’re just beginning to tease these new, tumultuous feelings out, silence is truly golden.

The silence is only broken slightly by Harry’s soft mewl as Louis fingers move from tracing his tattoo to his hair, quickly getting lost in the curly, bed ridden mess atop his head. Louis runs his fingers along Harry’s scalp, his hand falling deep and deeper into the curls. Harry’s thumb is stroking over Louis’ cheek absentmindedly as he continues to hum sounds of contentment in the back of his throat. A smile resurrects Louis’ mouth in response. It’s a half smile but Harry suspects it’s only a hint of drowsiness holding him back.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry can’t help but say, tracing the contour of Louis’ cheek all the way down to his jaw.

Louis’ eyes tighten slightly and Harry can see the strain, the embers of his past burning him up inside as a memory resurfaces. Harry doesn’t know quite what it is but he can smell the mouldy darkness of misery and regret lingering in the air as the sweet, scent of their moment disperses quickly. Harry snatches at the traces of it, mourning its absence. Yet Louis doesn’t turn away.

With eyes and lips stretched tight with controlled pain, he brings his hand down from Harry’s hair to grip the back of his neck conveying a message with his eyes. It’s okay, they seem to say. It’s okay that you made me think of it. So Harry and Louis lay like that for the next hour as the sun rises, Louis’ hand massaging the base of Harry’s neck, his eyes sinking deeper and deeper into Harry’s while Harry runs his fingers down the side of Louis’ face, over and over, as if waiting for the simple perfection of it all to be punctured.

Finally, Harry lifts his head and with a despairing sigh, sits up in the tent. The sleeping bag falls to his waist, revealing the bare and rather sculpted planes of his chest, his tattoos like dark shadows on his soft, pale skin. He gathers his clothes and toiletries in his arms, his briefs pulling up his legs as he does so. He feels self-conscious about the view Louis might be privy to right now, knowing his bum is nothing to be proud of. It’s not the work of art that Louis’ is. Yes, Harry can finally admit that he’s got a serious thing for Louis’ bum. Oh and Louis too of course. Don’t want none unless you got buns hun. Harry immediately regrets singing Nicki Minaj/sir mix-a-lot, even inwardly and realises belatedly that the song hits out at his confidence, given his lack of ah… buns.

Yet when he turns to face Louis to announce his plans to shower, Louis’ eyes rake him over hot coals in the best way possible, his skin sizzling with the sensation of being looked over so very thoroughly. Louis’ eyes suction to his body, ogling his abs, his legs and even his tiny, pert bum with no less intensity than he had looked at Harry after they kissed last night. Louis’ so damn unashamed in his appraisal that a cauldron of lust begins to bubble in the pit of Harry’s stomach, his muscles tightening infinitesimally in response as his briefs being to feel awfully constricting.

“I’ve got to go shower,” Harry says hurriedly, trying not to fixate on the way Louis’ tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

He practically launches himself through the opening of the tent and is quite surprised he doesn’t fall and break something. When he finds the showers as of yet unoccupied, he uses the opportunity to relieve some tension, his hand working over himself quickly, short and sweet, as he lets Louis’ burning look and heated kiss pervade his brain.  Thick ropes of cum shoot out the tip of his cock and he moans as he imagines Louis’ hand working him over instead.

When he returns to the tent, showered and dressed in a grey polo and blue jeans, he finds Louis has changed also. He’s sitting on top of his sleeping bag, writing in some kind of journal, wearing the kind of tight black t-shirt that makes Harry unbearably sexually frustrated, equally skin tight dark jeans and his classic green jacket. His eyes are sparkling as the pen moves over the paper and Harry has to bite down hard on the curiosity swelling beneath his chest as he sits down upon his sleeping bag.

“Your jacket,” Harry says delightedly, startling Louis who snaps the journal shut and shoves it in his bag, “you’re wearing it again.”

Harry concentrates hard on Louis’ face, not allowing his eyes to wander to the bag where the journal is now situated. Maybe if he doesn’t reveal how badly he’d like to know what’s inside, Louis might share some of it with him some day. Maybe that’s just a metaphor for how Harry feels about Louis himself.

“Smells like you,” Louis breathes, a fond, twitching smile dancing over his lips.

Louis’ words are like maple syrup being poured across a steaming pancake. Harry’s heart being the steaming pancake of course. He wants to reach out and touch them, raising those beautiful words up on a dais for everybody to see. The way he says them too, so different to the last time, when the note of regret on the page had left Harry with the sting of rejection.

This quiet utterance is gentle, pleased, as though there is nothing more appropriate than for Louis to drown himself in clothing that smells like Harry. Harry’s not sure what changed Louis’ mind…the kiss, the few words he’s been able to speak or perhaps this morning’s tender touches but it doesn’t really matter. Harry would kiss Louis, would kiss the mouth that imparted that sentence for him to revel in but he’s still not sure where they stand, not really and he doesn’t want to push Louis. He doesn’t want to take too much.

“I love it when you speak,” Harry says simply, a dimpled smile lifting his cheeks.

Louis looks down in response, his eyelashes sweeping along his cheekbones as he smiles wider, a hint of boyish shyness shining through that twists Harry’s heart and sends his stomach into tangles of butterflies. Louis stays silent now but Harry’s okay with it. For now, he’s okay to let this unfold any which way, as long as it involves Louis like this, with walls breaking down, allowing pure emotional responses to get through. Of course that’s when Harry notices the minor detail he’d forgotten in the process of studying Louis’ face and diverting his attention away from his journal. His hair is quite noticeably damp.

“You,” Harry’s voice cuts off as the panic rises, “you,” the rest of the words won’t come and Louis’ looking at him like he’s gone mad, “You had a shower? You were in the showers?”

Knowledge alights in Louis’ twinkling eyes and he nods firmly, his lips pressed so tightly together in their smile as if to contain a laugh. Harry would like to drown himself in some acid right about now. Anything to burn away the shame he feels knowing Louis must have heard him getting off, knowing Louis probably knows he was getting off TO him. Harry reverts to a nervous schoolboy, his eyes falling to his boots as he taps a beat against the side of his shoe, his cheeks flaming red much to his (further) embarrassment.

There’s the sound of rustling as Louis moves against his sleeping bag and Harry still can’t look up, fearful of what’s to come but Louis is sat right in front of him now and his hand finds Harry’s jaw, lifting gently as his thumbs press indents into his cheeks. When Harry raises his eyes to meet Louis’, Louis measures his expression for a moment before rising up on his knees and angling his face downward as he presses his mouth against Harry’s.

Harry suspects Louis simply wanted a height advantage for once and it makes him smile into the kiss, his hand coming around Louis to rest against the small of his back as Louis’ lips move tantalisingly against his for a few moments more. When Louis pulls away, sitting back down on his heels, he removes his post-it notes from his jacket. Harry kind of hates the sight of them at this point but he can’t begrudge Louis this. Louis needs to take his time. That’s fine. When Louis hands over the note, Harry’s heart is seizing in his chest and he feels half hard all over again.

“ _I enjoyed my shower just as much as you did.”_

Harry doesn’t know what to think. This Louis is….so….so unreserved, so playful, and dangerous even. It makes Harry want him all the more. He grips the side of Louis’ neck, the large expanse of his hand covering the small column of tanned skin completely and god if that isn’t a turn on. He kisses his gratitude, close mouthed…short and sweet but every brush of their lips is like kindling and fire just poised to ignite.

When they finally leave the tent, making their way over to the centre, it occurs to him that nobody can know. Not yet. Not until he’s figured out what the hell is going on and whether this is okay, whether the fact that he thinks his buddy is fit as fuck is a serious problem. Of course he knows it’s a problem. It’s just…he doesn’t want to think about that right now…and he knows Louis. He knows Louis probably isn’t ready to share this with the world yet either. So he restrains Louis with a hand to his wrist just as they’re about to cross the threshold of the centre, leaning down to whisper in his ear, his breath ghosting over his neck in a way that makes Louis tense just slightly. It’s gratifying for Harry to note.

“Just between us for now right?” Harry whispers, “the kiss…last night…I will say you were just helping me get away from Nathan…giving me an out.”

Louis nods but there’s a cynical crease between his eyebrows and a doubtful expression that Harry doesn’t understand until they sit down across from each other, with the rest of the boys and he lets the story fall from his mouth. Niall is the first to crack, his loud laugh booming out across the table and a moment later, Zayn joins in, not nearly as loud but clearly just as amused. Liam just gives Harry an unimpressed look.

“What?” Harry asks.

Niall’s back in his rightful position next to Harry while Zayn and Liam sit across the way, a small space between them and Louis, who obviously doesn’t feel quite comfortable enough around them yet.

“Haz,” Niall guffaws, slapping his hand against the table like a seal, “that is the worst told lie you’ve ever tried on me.”

Louis’ shaking with silent laughter, clearly unbothered, which Harry hadn’t expected. Harry glares at him but Louis continues to smile tight lipped, catching Harry’s feet under the table and swinging them playfully. Damn blue eyed boys and their flirting with footsies. It softens Harry’s heart instantly.

“I second that,” Zayn agrees with a smirk.

“Harry, did you honestly think we would believe that?” Liam says with an arched eyebrow, tilting his head across Zayn to Louis, “you’ve got heart eyes whenever you look at him.”

“What the hell are heart eyes?” Harry says defensively, wishing he were not having this conversation in front of the recipient himself.

His eyes flicker to Louis unconsciously whose foot rubs up and down his own, teasingly, his teeth biting his lip as he digs a spoon into the cereal Harry had forced him to get, acting the complete innocent. Harry draws his foot slowly up Louis’ leg to his lap, pushing gently against his cock just to punish him and Louis’ spoon clatters against the bowl. Harry smirks as blue eyes rebuke him, clearly frustrated.

“Those,” Zayn says with badly suppressed humour, using his spoon to gesture vaguely at Harry’s face, “are heart eyes.”

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes as he focus intently on his cereal.

“That’s ridiculous. Louis and I are just friends, that’s all,” Harry says harshly.

Niall’s hand is on his shoulder, clamping down and when Harry looks up, he’s got a look of surprise on his face, his lips strangely pursed as if holding back his boisterous laugh. It’s a strange image. Niall doesn’t usually hold things back.

“Would you say you and Louis keep your distance Haz?” He asks in a strangely formal tone.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch together with confusion but he plays along, refusing to look at Louis as he answers.

“Well yeah, it’s not like he talks. We don’t even share the same tent anymore.”

Harry’s not sure why he thinks lying about that will help him in the long run. He supposes the truth is he’s not thinking about the long run.

“Oh,” Niall’s eyebrows rise but he’s not discouraged clearly as he continues, “So you would say you keep a fair amount of physical distance between yourself and this boy? He doesn’t for instance, I dunno, play footsies with you at the breakfast table.”

Harry’s spoon halts mid-air and both Liam and Zayn’s eyebrows jump up. Louis’ expression has frozen over completely.

“I don’t know why you’d…I can’t see why you’d think…” Harry blusters.

“Well,” Niall interrupts, his characteristic grin now taking shape, “I just felt something very interesting rising up my leg just now.”

Harry should probably be more bothered that the cat’s out of the bag but he’s mostly bothered that Louis’ touched Niall instead of him. It’s ridiculous. There’s a momentary pause and then the whole table dissolves into laughter, including Louis and Harry whose laughter is shared, their eyes sending warmth back and forth like a languid game of tennis.

“What did you learn from this experience Haz?” Niall asks, his mouth as wide as one of those clowns that you find at the carnival that you have to shoot balls into.

It’s a pity Niall isn’t gay. Then again, if he were, Harry might be even more bothered about the fact that Louis felt him up with his foot.

“To let Louis do all the talking,” Harry says with an answering grin.

They all laugh again at the absurdity of this and Harry feels like everything is clicking into place. Outside his little world, everything’s a mess. There’s the threat of Louis’ past and the threat of Harry’s morals and every external pressure he could think of but inside his circle of friends, in his tent with Louis, in this little moment of humour, there is safety and happiness. There is peace.

Louis takes forever to finish his food and Harry eventually rolls his eyes and departs, ignoring the look of betrayal as he thinks it’s actually good for Louis to spend some time with the boys, even if it is just sitting there in silence as the conversation swells around him. It has nothing to do with the fact that Harry’s imagining a world where Louis is his boyfriend for real, is best mates with his best mates and they all hang out as a group. He’s not picturing the cute double dates with Niall as a tag along, hopefully with a girl of his own and countless group hang outs where Harry gets to turn up with Louis’ little hand locked in his, their fingers intertwined.

Harry is so caught up in NOT thinking about these things that he runs smack bang into Nathan outside the centre. Nathan reaches out to steady him, hands gripping the sides of his arms but Harry steps away, green eyes cold and filled with the kind of malice that doesn’t usually exist for him. He’s never despised anyone quite like this. Nobody’s ever hurt someone he cares about this way he supposes.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, his tone glacial.

“I don’t get you,” Nathan says bitterly, “why him? What did I do wrong?”

Harry barks out a laugh but he’s not really amused of course. It’s just ridiculous.

“Maybe I lead you on. Maybe I made you think you stood a chance,” Harry says savagely, the words ripping out of his throat, “but you were the one who lied about the fucking poem. You’re the one who thinks it’s acceptable to call me a fag and you…you fucking punched him. You fucking punched one of our buddies.”

Nathan’s mouth twists awfully with derision.

“And you kissing him, that’s so much better than what I did? Sounds like you’re taking advantage to me,” Nathan says cruelly.

“He kissed me actually,” Harry corrects, “and it’s none of your business. You had no right to touch him, even if he touched me. What are you, some kind of animal?”

“He’s the one who’s fucking vermin,” Nathan says, the words fierce, his murky green eyes muddied in the wintry light of morning, “you’ve the worst taste Harry.”

That’s when Harry starts to shake with anger and at the same time an arms winds its way around his waist, soothing him with a gentle squeeze. He glances sideways and finds Louis’ pleading look. _Leave it_. Louis wants him to leave it. Yet Harry can see the cut on his nose from last night and it absolutely kills him that anyone would hurt Louis that way. Louis, who shines so bloody bright in his kindness and his compassion. Harry doesn’t look away from Louis’ eyes as he responds, bringing his own arm around Louis now to force them more tightly together.

“The way I see it, my taste is impeccable. You see vermin. I see a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.”

The words are sickeningly clichéd but Louis whole face smooths out into complete bliss, his eyes slitted with contentment and neither of them pays any mind when Nathan scoffs loudly and then continues on to the centre. Louis releases Harry and Harry does the same but their eyes remain slotted together as they walk back to their tent, their hands brushing as often as Harry can manage it.

…..

“ _A scavenger hunt? Really? What are we…five?”_

Harry smiles at the note, tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. He’s decided he’d like to stick them all in some kind of keepsake box at some point. Louis’ noticed him doing it throughout the day and each time, his eyes are both surprised and pleased that Harry would be so invested in holding onto them.

“I think it will be fun,” Harry says, bopping Louis on the nose which makes the skin around his eyes crease up happily, almost against his will.

They’ve got a list of five cards to look for in the woods and they have to find all five of them before returning to camp. Harry’s so high on adrenalin today that he’s decided prematurely that they’re going to win.

“I’m going to piggy back you,” Harry whispers to Louis just as Paul brings the whistle to his mouth.

Harry bends slightly and Louis jumps, Harry grabbing his legs just in time and knotting them around his waist. Louis arms come around his shoulders, loosely crossed over his chest and Harry can’t help it. He brings a hand up to scale the smooth, warm skin of Louis arm gently. That’s when Paul blows the whistle and Harry is a man on a mission, running forward and dodging people as he threads his way through the woods, watching his every step this time, knowing if he goes flying, Louis goes flying too.

The first card is stuck to a tree in the very centre of the woods. There’s enough for each pair, taped messily all around the tree’s width. Harry lets Louis slide from his back now and Louis quickly pulls one away. There’s no one else around and Harry hopes against hope that it means they got here first.

“ _The second of us is where our collective power pools.”_

“Pools,” Harry repeats to himself as he reads over Louis shoulder, hand wrapped quite possessively around Louis’ hip, “the river!”

Harry and Louis run from one location to the next where Louis finds the next clue nestled in among the plants that surround the river. Still there’s no one in sight and Harry has a very good feeling about this.

“ _The third is where the moon’s nemesis makes its last bid for the day.”_

“Our hill,” Louis whispers, “the top of our hill.”

Harry kisses him briefly. Our hill. He loves the way it sounds so soft and intimate in Louis’ mouth. Louis grabs his hand and they trace their way up towards the peak, matching smiles on their faces as the adrenaline courses through their bodies. The fourth clue however is where it all starts to go wrong.

_“The fourth is where nymphs play at night.”_

Harry’s heard the myth from Zayn and Liam. The legend of the night-time nymphs who play their harps to anyone who inhabits the abandoned cabin in the south-west corner of the woods. Harry knows exactly how to get there and it starts off just fine, their feet moving quickly through grass and shrubbery, Louis pointing out any potential obstacles in Harry’s way as they go.

However the sun is starting to set behind Louis’ head and there’s an orange-pink glow to the world that makes Louis’ eyes bluer and his smile pinker. Harry finds himself dazzled by it all. One minute he’s stepping over a large rock, congratulating himself on remaining upright and the next he’s got Louis pushed up against a tree and is kissing him roughly.

However Louis must be feeling it too, this desperate desire to touch, to get as close as they can before the world inevitably implodes. He rucks Harry’s shirt up at the back keeping his hand there and pushing forward so that the hard planes of their stomachs are aligned. He matches Harry stroke for stroke with his tongue. Eventually they make it to the next clue but this time, its obvious people have been here before them, most of the cards quite clearly gone and they know they’ve lost their lead. Louis laughs into his fist, drawing a fond look from Harry and together they read the last clue.

“ _The last of us is where the dragon breathes.”_

“The fire,” Harry says automatically, “it’s at the place where we have the bonfire nights.”

The journey back to camp is even slower because this time it’s both of them sending hungry looks each other’s way before giving in. Louis uses Harry’s collar to force him up against trees which is just too hot for words as his mouth trails down Harry’s neck and then back up to his lips, exploring. Harry takes to leading Louis by the hand, backing himself up against the tree trunk and grabbing Louis’ waist. He takes his mouth slowly, just barely brushing their lips at first which makes Louis fist a hand in his hair as he makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and fits his mouth more tightly to Harry’s.

When they finally reach the bonfire, there’s one card left hanging from a piece of string that’s tied from one overarching tree to another. They both stare up at it quizzically for a moment before Harry has an idea.

“Get on my shoulders,” Harry says bending down low to the ground to allow this to happen.

Louis eyes him with concern as he steps closer. Harry curls a hand around his jean clad leg.

“I promise I won’t drop you love,” Harry murmurs, “trust me.”

His hand loosens on Louis’ ankle as he realises what he’s just said but Louis smiles like the cat that got the cream and then swings his legs over Harry’s shoulders gripping Harry’s head for dear life. Harry grabs his legs, holding tight as he slowly raises himself up off the ground finding that Louis is feather light and his weight barely bothers him. However the fact that Louis’ weight doesn’t bother him, bothers him, as ridiculous as it sounds.

Louis stretches up slightly and removes the peg from the card, tucking both into his pocket. Then he leans over Harry’s face and moulds their mouths together. Harry’s hands tighten on Louis’ legs instinctually at the change in position but then simply rub up and down lazily as Louis continues his ministrations in this strange imitation of a Spiderman kiss. The angle is slightly awkward and their teeth clack together just slightly but it only makes them laugh as Harry lets Louis down from his perch and he removes the card from his pocket.

_“Congratulations! Scavenger hunt complete! Your dinner awaits!”_

Louis grins at Harry, something wicked gleaming in his eyes and Harry’s just about to ask what’s on his mind when Louis drops the card and makes a run for it leaving Harry behind. Harry lets out a surprised yelp/laugh and dashes after him, quickly catching up as his legs are much longer. They slam into the side of the centre, laughing and huffing from exertion and Louis’ eyes are still shiny blue like someone laminated the ocean. Harry would like to drown in them.

Dinner is just as entertaining, the boys making cracks about what Harry and Louis might have been doing for so long in the woods and the reason they came last. Harry doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed today. Louis sits beside him at dinner and when he finds Louis’ hand beneath the table, Louis doesn’t retract it, just intertwines their fingers more tightly together, smiling almost smugly down at his green beans. Harry doesn’t want to be cocky and attribute it to his own actions but honestly, whoever smiled so convincingly at the sight of green beans? Broccoli on the other hand….

……

Harry is almost asleep, his eyes heavy, as they droop lower and lower. His whole body is warm and loose and he can barely wipe the smile off his face even as his mouth tries to slacken with sleep. In any other case, he’d think it wasn’t possible. Sure, he’d believed in romance, quite strongly in fact. He’d believed in falling for someone so fast you couldn’t catch your breath. Yet he’d never thought it would be quite like this. He never thought the sounds of Louis nestling into his sleeping bag would have the power to comfort him so completely, simply because it signifies Louis’ presence.

“Harry,” comes the curiously, hesitant sound, undeniably smooth but with that rough note of something lying just beneath.

“Yes?” Harry says, with closed eyes, a smile upturning his lips.

Louis’ voice is still quite the gift. It still collects in his heart like a reserve of liquid gold that runs throughout his body whenever he forgets what it feels like to be blessed.

“Can I…?” Louis starts and Harry sees the crease at the top of his nose in his mind’s eye.

Louis doesn’t finish his sentence but he scoots closer until his chest is brushing up against Harry’s back. His lips skate across Harry’s neck when he talks.

“Is this okay?”

Harry’s cheeks dimple so deeply they practically create craters.

“No,” he says, grinning into his pillow.

Louis begins to slide away but Harry reaches backward to stop him with a hand to his hip. Then he pulls Louis’ arm around his waist, pushing backward slightly so his bum is pressed up against Louis’ groin, causing him to gasp.

“Now it’s okay,” he says arrogantly, amusement bubbling up.

“Careful,” Louis cautions.

“Why?” Harry asks, still smirking, completely oblivious, completely unprepared.

Louis rocks his hips, pushing his dick up against Harry’s ass and Harry groans, pushing back to get more of the sensation but Louis refuses to move, tightening his hand around Harry’s waist in a clear instruction not to grind.

“Got it,” Harry says, voice tight with tension, “two can play at that game.”

His hand comes to rest on Louis’ and he falls asleep that way, being spooned by a boy who he had sworn would never trust him at all. A boy who’s quickly working his way through Harry’s heart, taking up so much space that Harry forgets what he even kept in there beforehand.


	9. Chapter 9

_Day Sixteen_

When Harry wakes, the sound of rain pattering against the outside of the tent is the first thing he hears. Then, the sounds of people moving about the tents. Harry reaches over and grabs his phone, lighting up the screen with his touch and finds it’s already 10 am. He must have slept more soundly and for longer than he has in ages. Then he remembers why. Louis Tomlinson. The sleeping bag feels cold around his body and when he looks down and he knows why. There’s no arm wrapped around his waist and there’s no warmth pressed up against him. When he turns over, Louis is not in his bed.

There’s no logical reason for Harry to rush through his shower, barely scrubbing his body, throwing on some fairly faded blue jeans and a red hoodie with nothing underneath but the rain sounds hard on the tin roof while he’s in the shower and it feels like a bad omen. The sky seems to be gathering more gusto when Harry sets out across the camp and into the woods, a man on a mission. There’s no logical reason for him to worry. It’s 10 am after all. Louis could easily be in the centre finishing up breakfast but things feel different today, less sugary sweet so Harry quickens his pace, the cold slice of rain hitting the back of his neck and falling down the back of his top, making him shiver.

Louis is exactly where Harry expected, sitting on the bank of the river, partially sheltered from the rain by a tree that arcs over the river’s edge. He looks entirely too vulnerable nonetheless. Harry ignores the tight, white yoga pants for now. The ones he’s never seen before that go semi-transparent in the rain, revealing dark briefs and smooth, olive skin. He focuses on the jacket that’s zipped up tight that looks more like a way of deflecting the outside world than the cold. Louis’ got his head in his hands and he looks kind of defeated.

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry says a little breathlessly, coming to kneel before the boy and running a hand through his own sopping curls that drip water onto his face.

A smile resurrects Louis’ features but it’s lost, forlorn even as he brings his hand up to Harry’s jaw and traces the lower half of his cheek briefly. It’s tender and gentle and all things a touch between them should be after a day like yesterday but Louis’ eyes don’t match the beat of his fingers. His eyes are splintering.

Harry lets himself sink onto the grass, relieved that his denim at least prevents too much water from soaking through. However his bare chest is frozen from the water easing down the inside of his jumper. Louis’ eyes glance his way, noting the trembling and suddenly he’s crushed against Louis’ side, being gripped tighter than he thought possible. Yet Louis still won’t hold his eyes and it’s making Harry uneasy.

“Lou, what’s wrong?” Harry says tentatively, resisting the urge to bring his own arm around Louis.

Louis doesn’t look like he wants to be touched right now. He looks like he’d rather drown himself in the lake….or the rain; whichever comes first.

“Look,” Harry says steadily and Louis’ eyes flicker his way for a moment before darting away, “I need you to talk to me. For real. I gave you yesterday….I gave _us_ yesterday really. It was…um,” Harry pulls on the edge of his jumper, “it was one of the best days I’ve had at camp, maybe one of the best days I’ve had ever.”

Louis’ eyelashes flutter more quickly and his hand squeezes Harry’s side but he still remains mute.

“But Lou,” Harry’s throat is constricting now, not wanting to assail the peace with his own desperation but needing answers, needing them desperately, “you obviously feel differently this morning. Maybe last night…maybe that was,” he gulps, “too much too soon and I’m sorry. I mean maybe you just don’t….maybe it’s just and you don’t even-“

Louis’ body twists around and he silences Harry with a quick, firm kiss. His eyes are much less directionless now but there’s still a hint of something, a chink in the armour and not the good kind.

“I like you,” Louis says in a rush of breath and Harry’s stomach does a flip, “but it’s complicated.”

Harry knows this much already, knows from everything he’s seen in Louis’ eyes up to this point, that there are miles of sadness in Louis’ past, miles and miles of memories that he needs to wade through before he can even fathom confronting his future. Harry wants him to know it’s okay and that he understands every inch of that pain without knowing the specifics. If Louis feels even half of what he does then it’s okay. It has to be okay.

“I like you too,” Harry returns with a hoarse voice, daring to reach out and grip Louis’ cheek with damp fingers, watching as the ice in Louis’ eyes cracks and then melts in response, “and it’s okay…I can wait for you. I can be patient. I just need you to try. Try with me.”

Louis bites down hard on his lip, looking torn and with shaking, slightly desperate fingers, he reaches out and scrunches his hand in Harry’s jumper. He looks up from beneath his eyelashes that sparkle slightly with the droplets of water that fall upon them.

“I can’t promise you Harry,” Louis whispers, “this is a lot. You know that I… I talk at home and to the kids. It’s not foreign to me that,” Louis looks down at his beaten up TOMS, “but you are.”

“Because you’ve never trusted a mediator before? Because they’re always trying to get something out of you?”

Louis’ voice sounds dark and twisted when he answers.

“You want things too.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and he reaches over and encircles Louis’ ankles which shift restlessly against the ground. Louis’ eyes meet his.

“I only want you,” Harry says swiftly, leaving himself no time to regret his honesty, “I only want what you want me to have. Nothing more.”

There’s a small smile curving Louis’ lips as he stares at Harry’s hands which unconsciously traces the bumps in his ankle. It’s enough for Harry; that smile. It’s more than enough.

“Harry Styles.”

Louis’ voice is a gravelly, husky caress that sweeps along Harry’s skin, making him shiver and Louis pulls him closer in response.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Harry says with an awkward laugh, looking out at the slating rain being blown across the surface of the river by the wind.

Louis reaches out and turns his head back toward him and then with the sleeve of his jacket, he gently wipes away the trails of water across Harry’s skin. It’s futile. They’ll only be replaced with new ones but Harry thrills to the touch anyway, to the warmth that pervades Louis’ eyes, chasing away the last of the frost and that chilling darkness within. Louis knits his hand in the back of Harry’s hair now and kisses him forcefully. When he pulls back, his lips are pursed with the effort of containing his smile. It’s perfect. It’s Harry’s favourite kind of smile on Louis.

“Want you too,” Louis says, like it’s a secret… like an incantation, like these words will only ever belong to the mess of trees that surround them and Harry’s damn unsteady heart.

They don’t talk after that, just gazing out at the sleeting rain, snuggled into each other’s bodies for warmth and if Louis’ hand splays out across Harry’s hip in a rather possessive hold, Harry pretends not to notice. Better not to make such things obvious and risk the chance that Louis might regret them. If Harry’s lips sweep along the crest of Louis’ hair once or twice, he pretends to himself it isn’t so because he’d rather not try and muddle out why he’s fallen so hard. He’d rather not determine just quite how hard he’s fallen just yet.

 Louis wants him and has said as much but those words can mean any number of things and Harry’s not clear on the meaning of them just yet. He’s not going to ask. Not now. He knows what he meant when he told Louis he wanted him but if Louis meant something less, something a lot less, in return then Harry will just have to deal with it when the time comes.

They stay like that for hours. Harry doesn’t tire of it, not of Louis’ fingers pressing so tightly into his side or of his own head eventually dropping down to rest against Louis’. The air is frigid and icy and Harry’s skin is snowy white with the loss of blood and warmth but he’s not cold inside. Inside, Louis’ flames are licking hot against his veins, burning him all the way up to his throat. Eventually however, when it’s late afternoon, Louis looks over at his chattering teeth and trembling body and reaches up to trace his quivering cheek with a languid pull of his thumb.

“You’re shivering like crazy,” he says, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain, “you should go back.”

Harry resents the implication that he should leave Louis here alone and he flashes a protestant pout which turns the corners of Louis’ mouth up with amusement and perhaps a touch of fondness.

“Haz,” Louis pleads and Harry blinks slowly in response to the name, his heart beating unsteadily in his chest, “please. You’re going to get sick if you stay out here any longer.”

Harry’s most mischievous grin lightens his expression as he secures an arm around Louis and rolls his own head back along his shoulders.

“I’ve got chills, they’re multiplying,” he sings to the sky, grin notching up his cheeks as he squeezes Louis who lets out an adorably surprised squeak, “and I’m loooooooosing control.”

“For the poweeeer you’re suppling,” Harry nuzzles his head against Louis’ neck, mouthing over his collar bones, “it’s electrifying!”

A loud crash of thunder cracks in the sky at the moment and is quickly followed by a flash of lightning. Harry figures the universe is on board with his theatrics and even with him wooing Louis perhaps.

He jumps up then, looking up at the sky worriedly before simply darting ahead to just past the first tree in the woods. He looks back at Louis, who remains seated, watching with a raised eyebrow. Harry holds out a hand in invitation.

“You’re the one that I want,” Harry croons, singing into Louis’ eyes before tilting his head back and letting the rain cascade down his body.

Louis doesn’t move. He looks Harry over with complete bewilderment, as though Harry were something completely beyond his understanding. It doesn’t bother Harry…much. He just pouts again, letting his green eyes droop pleadingly and then watches with delight as Louis comes running his way and grabs his hand. Harry tugs him close, cradling his face with one hand.

“You skipped a whole verse you know,” Louis says, quite breathless as he tilts his head back to stare up into Harry’s big, green eyes.

Harry shakes his head with a tight lipped smile.

“Don’t tell me, it’s your favourite movie,” Harry jokes with a roll of his eyes, hand roving down over Louis’ side.

“Well…”

Louis’ expression is plenty bashful and Harry delights in it, his head falling back again as his laugh booms out across the woods, drowned out only slightly by the whoosh of the wind blowing the rain.

“Well what’s your favourite?” Louis asks grouchily, crossing his arms.

Harry tries to uncross them and then failing in that, cups Louis’ hips and brings their bodies together.

“Love actually,” Harry says, eyes dancing.

“Oh. We are proper gay aren’t we?” Louis says, wearing a falsely concerned expression that makes Harry giggle.

“I hope so,” Harry says huskily, Louis’ body flush against his own now, “I don’t want to have to compete with more than one gender.”

Louis hands grasp Harry’s face and their heads lean forward simultaneously. Their mouths meet in a light brush that’s only delicate smiling lips and blue eyes meeting green in an exchange of softness that is so very precarious to hold in one’s hands.

Harry then wraps his large hand around Louis’ fine fingers and they run for their lives, the rain bucketing down onto their shoulders, the thunder booming overhead. They laugh like children on red cordial, their feet slipping and sliding through wet leaves, their eyes flickering back to each other and reflecting the muted light of the day. Louis stops at one point and Harry looks over at him curiously.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, water easing down his face and collecting in the shallows of his skin.

Louis’ eyes sweep along his face and down his body, lingering on his calves to which his wet jeans are plastered. Then his eyes shoot back up to Harry’s, full of determination and some kind of tortured passion. He crosses the short space between them and grips Harry’s hip fiercely and Harry wonders if there’ll be fingerprints burned into his skin later. It sure feels like it. Louis pushes him against the nearest tree trunk and then his look turns scalding hot, scorching down Harry’s neck and beneath his jumper, searing him with its intensity.

“You,” Louis gasps, “you’re what’s wrong.”

He pushes Harry’s jumper up and it reveals his unclothed chest. Louis groans as he takes in the definition in Harry’s stomach; the hard abdominals that contract as he splays his hands across them, pressing just slightly.

“Nothing underneath,” Louis breathes, shaking his head in disbelief and just a dash of awe, “you’re not wearing anything underneath.”

Louis’ slid down at this point so his eyes are directly in line with Harry’s belly button. He palms at Harry’s skin before opening up his mouth and dragging it up across his stomach very slowly. He brings his lips together every so often, looking up at Harry from beneath his lashes as he leaves a hot wet trail of kisses all the way up to the very top of Harry’s rib cage. Then he sucks Harry’s nipple into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue. Harry makes a guttural noise in the back of his throat and yanks Louis back up, forcing their mouths together in a hot, gasping kiss.

“Like you can talk,” Harry pants, shuddering as Louis grips his bare waist tightly, “yoga pants, really? Are you trying to kill me?”

Louis’ eyes are truly and utterly innocent as he blinks up at Harry.

“What about them?”

Harry reaches around to Louis’ bum and squeezes just barely, loosening his hand immediately in case it’s too much but Louis’ eyes widen appreciatively. He stops Harry from moving his hand away, encircling his wrist to restrain him. Harry squeezes harder and Louis’ hips stutter forward, pushing Harry back further against the tree, Louis’ legs now bracketing his own. Their cocks push up against one another and Harry can feel Louis’ hardness against his own.

“I can see your ass,” Harry growls in Louis ear, clutching Louis’ bum even tighter which makes Louis jolt again, pushing his hips forward even further, bringing their cocks even closer together, “I can see all of it. Which means other people can too.”

Louis’ hand is up, around his neck and he pulls back now, holding tightly as he measures Harry’s expression with a kind of wonder present in his currently cloudy, blue eyes.

“And that bothers you?” He breathes, tilting his head to study Harry’s flared nostrils as he traces a vein in his neck.

Just then, another massively loud clap of thunder echoes overhead and lightning streaks the sky.

“We should go,” Harry says with a grin, reluctantly releasing Louis’ bum from his touch.

Louis nods and then grabs Harry’s hand. They run the rest of the way back to camp and then Louis’ tugging on his hand with a devilish grin, pulling him toward the showers. Harry’s still confused until Louis pushes him into a cubicle, flicks the lock behind him and then turns them around, forcing Harry up against the door.

“Louis,” Harry cautions as Louis starts pushing up his jumper again.

Louis pauses in his ministrations looking peeved. Harry catches his hands.

“Lou, I think it’s amazing that you’re so…you’re so okay with this. I thought this would be hard for you. But I guess now that the floodgates are open so to speak...” Louis grins, “but I don’t want to be with you like that yet.”

Louis’ mouth twitches with a smile and then he grabs Harry’s face, kissing him with long strokes of his tongue and lingering brushes of his lips until Harry slackens in the bracket of his arms, entirely ready to submit to whatever Louis asks of him. Of course that’s when Louis leans forward and breathes across Harry’s ear;

“You misunderstood love. I just want to bathe you.”

Harry’s breath hitches and Louis hears it and chuckles. He holds Harry’s eyes as he begins to pull on Harry’s jumper again. Harry goes easily this time, arms lifted as he bends his knees to make it easier for Louis. Louis rolls his eyes but Harry pays no mind, seeing the way he still has to arch up on his feet a little to get it all the way off. He disposes off the jumper on the bench that rests along the side of the cubicle, away from the water and then runs his hands up Harry’s stomach to his pectorals, splaying his fingers out slowly.

“You’re so built,” Louis whispers, bending his fingers slightly so the pads of them press more insistently against Harry’s skin, “you’re any gay man’s wet dream.”

Harry’s wet curls tickle his face as he laughs, Louis’ eyes tracing his face fondly all the while.

“You’re funny,” he says poking Louis’ side who squirms just slightly, “I wish you’d spoken more before. I didn’t know.”

Louis pushes Harry against the door with an unflinchingly serious expression.

“It’s not funny at all Harry Styles. You’re bloody fit… and that’s not funny at all.”

Harry responds by reaching out to unzip Louis’ jacket. Louis shrugs it off, letting it fall to the floor without looking away from Harry’s eyes. Then, he slowly reaches down and pulls his yoga pants away so he’s donned only in a tight black shirt and matching briefs that leave little to the imagination. Harry whistles long and low which makes Louis’ eyes twinkle as he presses against Harry and kisses him for a moment.

“These,” Louis says between kisses, tugging on Harry’s jeans, “off,” he brushes his mouth over Harry’s top lip, “now.”

Harry unbuttons his jeans with a loud pop and begins to draw his hand slowly down the zipper. Louis groans, knocking Harry’s hand out of the way and rips the zip down, literally ripping it off the jeans.

“You broke them,” Harry says pathetically, as he frowns down at the blue eyed boy who rolls his eyes in response.

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

Louis begins to pull the soaking denim down over Harry’s hips but the moisture makes the already too-tight jeans stick like a second skin and Louis is soon panting and swearing under his breath. When the jeans eventually fall to Harry’s ankles and he steps out of them, Louis pretends to wipe the invisible sweat from his brow.

“Jesus, Styles,” he huffs and it amazes Harry how completely himself he is, no restraint and no hesitance in his speech, “did you paint them on?”

Harry just shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Loueh,” Harry says now, teeth pointed.

Louis raises an eyebrow as he scales Harry’s body back up to his face, clearly amused.

“Take your shirt off,” Harry orders, “please.”

Louis suddenly looks torn, itching at his side nervously.

“I’m not…Harry, I’m not,” he reaches out to cover Harry’s stomach with his hand, “I’m not like you. I’m not fit, in every sense of the word.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry scoffs.

Louis still looks cut up though, his blue eyes drifting down to Harry’s feet so Harry steps up to him, their toes just brushing slightly and tilts his chin up with one finger.

“Trust me,” he says quietly, holding Louis’ eyes.

Louis nods but he still looks a little uncertain. Harry’s hoping to change that. He gestures for Louis to hold his arms up and then quite quickly pulls the unnecessary fabric from Louis’ body, throwing it sideways onto the bench. Then he turns back to consider the Adonis before him.

Because, yes, Louis is beautiful. His chest is much smaller in breadth than Harry’s, his abdominals slightly less sharply defined but he’s hard planes all over when Harry scrubs a hand across his stomach and his tiny frame is a turn on. It’s such a bloody turn on. When Harry clasps his hands around Louis’ waist, he’s got enough purchase on his skin, enough of a grip on him that he’s able to lift him up, just waiting until Louis’ legs lock around his waist and their mouths come together.

“You’re such a liar,” Harry breathes raggedly, mouthing across Louis’ neck now.

“Me?” Louis asks, voice unnaturally high pitched and off balance, “I don’t lie.”

Harry’s hands slide around to squeeze Louis’ bum as he pulls Louis’ down on his clothed cock, unable to help himself from rocking up into it. They groan together. They’re not having sex like this. Not here. Not now. Harry won’t let it happen. Still…it doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a preview.

“Well you were right that you’re not like me,” Louis’ eyes slide closed in defeat, “you’re ten times more beautiful,” Louis’ eyes flutter open and they stare at Harry, transfixed, “you lied. You are so god damn fit Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry lets Louis slide down his body to stand now and both pairs of eyes flicker down each other’s bodies. Louis fingers tuck into the sides of his own briefs and Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat. Then suddenly, he realises. Camp time goes at warp speed. It doesn’t mean they have to. He covers Louis’ hands with his own.

“We can’t,” He says hurriedly.

Louis hands fall to his sides and he looks up at Harry with his brow drawn low over his eyebrows.

“You don’t want to? You don’t want to shower with me?”

Louis’ voice has returned to that tiny gust of breath that sounds so precarious, like a candle placed outside in stormy weather, just waiting to be snuffed out by the gale. That’s not what Harry wants. He clasps Louis’ face between his palms, his expression pleading.

“Of course I want to Louis. I want you,” Harry repeats, pouring his sincerity into every word, “but I want you when you’re ready to want me back.”

Louis doesn’t protest but his face freezes over and he steps back against the back wall of the shower, turning into it to shield himself. Harry hates the sight. It tears at his heart.

“Louis,” he calls, throat tight with restrained emotion.

“I’d suggest that if you don’t want to see me fully naked, you should leave now.”

The tone is stiff, formal even but Harry can see the tight set of Louis’ shoulders and the pressure lines in his stomach. He’s holding back so much. It hurts it hurts it hurts. It hurts because Louis thinks he’s undesirable and Harry doesn’t know how to prove to him that it’s not true, other than to do the one thing he knows he can’t. Harry gathers his clothes in his arms and then unlocks the door, giving it one last go before he leaves.

“I spent the last two weeks wishing I didn’t want you that way. Trust me, it’s not that.”

Louis doesn’t come to dinner and when Harry journeys back to the tent, Louis’ curled up in the corner again, sleeping soundly. Maybe Louis doesn’t trust him yet, at least not enough to believe him. Not enough to trust that this afternoon wasn’t about a lack of interest. Harry lies down on his bed with a sigh and tries very hard not to think that the one/two day honeymoon is over and that things are about to get difficult. He tries not to worry that it’s all going to come crashing down before he knows it and that perhaps, it already has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another short one but again, I think the story unfolds better this way.   
> Hopefully you enjoyed it...at least parts of it. Comments welcome and appreciated as always   
> xxx


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got so many feels atm considering the fact that same sex marriage was just legalised in america! Living in a country that doesn't have it legalised (Australia) makes me sick with sadness and frustration. Not because I'm gay but because I support everybody's equal right to love and to have that love recognised by the law. Since discovering Larry and fanfiction, I've only come to believe in it more. So today is a huge day for the world because it's one more step in the right direction so YAY! And so though it has not a whole lot (okay nothing really) to do with the chapter, I'd like to dedicate this to all the couples that will now be able to marry in America and the world we shall some day see where there is no distinction between heterosexual and gay couples because after all, love is love and if nothing else, that's what we should all believe in. Okay sorry for gabbing on!  
> WARNING: FEELS UPON FEELS. You might be able to tell that this is the chapter that I fell in love with vulnerable Louis. I was so consumed with the story that I even got teary while writing it. I dunno, I'm pathetic like that :P

_Day Seventeen_

Harry wakes up fairly early but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move because Louis is still sound asleep and his face has returned to softness. It’s not the cold, stony exterior that had formed when Harry had stopped him last night in the shower. His chestnut fringe sweeps across his forehead beautifully in sleep and one of his hands is scrunched in his pillow, the other loosely hanging over his chest, just aching to be held. Harry doesn’t touch. He feels like he needs to be given permission all over again.

He also doesn’t move because there’s the chance that he might rouse Louis and not only does Harry not want to give up watching him, he also doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of yesterday. Louis has been a whirlwind these last two days. A whirlwind of confidence, energy and basically a powerhouse that Harry hasn’t been able to contain. Harry hasn’t wanted to contain him really. Yet it had almost gone too far. Harry had wanted every inch of Louis’ bare skin upon his. Bathing together in an intimate tangle of their bodies...how wonderful that would have been. He had wanted to see Louis in all his glory. Of course he had.

However even the blood flowing out of his head and down to his dick could not stop him from realising the truth of the situation. They’ve just barely discovered each other. Harry’s not even sure what he’s doing is right. Louis is just barely an adult after all and a troubled one at that. Yes, Harry sees more than the scars and the fragmented pieces left from what existed beforehand but it doesn’t mean Louis’ pain isn’t a constant consideration. It doesn’t mean that intimacy can be carelessly formed, so haphazardly that it could easily be shattered in the wake of Louis’ regret or the onset of his past.

Harry doesn’t want that for them. He doesn’t want to lose himself completely and neither does he want that for Louis. The first time they’re together, even just in the shower, it has to be conscious and controlled at least inasmuch that they know the significance of it. Harry needs to know that they both feel the emotion breathing down the backs of their necks as their bodies come together, twining them tighter and tighter until they can scarcely breathe for all they feel. Harry wants that and if Louis doesn’t, if Louis doesn’t need that kind of connection, maybe it just isn’t supposed to happen for them. The thought hurts and Harry wriggles away from it in his mind.

Then, Louis’ phone goes off. It’s marimba which makes Harry smile because it’s his alarm tone too. That has to be a good sign. Only when he rolls over and reaches across Louis to turn it off, he realises it’s not an alarm. It’s an alert. Harry’s whole body recoils and he closes his eyes at the text on Louis’ phone.

“Three year anniversary – Elliot,” it reads. Harry feels quite sick. He has a boyfriend. He has a fucking boyfriend. Harry feels like he’s having a meltdown. How could he have been so stupid? Of course he has a boyfriend. He’s gorgeous, he’s brilliant…he’s, he’s the real wet dream. Harry had stupidly thought he’d been cracking the ice around Louis’ heart that had been there for a while. He’d mistakenly thought he sensed cobwebs and a certain reticence to feel anything at all. Maybe that just isn’t the case. Maybe his past hasn’t been a block to being with somebody like Harry had assumed. When Louis said he wanted him, he must have meant physically. It explains so much. Harry feels like he swallowed some battery acid.

Louis’ waking up now as the sound plays on and he reaches over, fumbling for his phone, his eyelids creaking open to reveal slits of the blue colour Harry had begun to think of as his favourite. It hurts. God it hurts. Who is Elliot? Who the fuck is Elliot? He wants to ask, wants to scream the words but his mouth won’t form them and he’s left staring at Louis as Louis’ eyes open wider and land on the phone.

Then Louis freezes too. His eyelashes are caught mid-blink, trapped in the swirling, catastrophic storm that Harry can see breaking over his face. His mouth is screwed up as if holding back a sob and he looks absolutely tortured. Harry wants to touch him, wants to break the spell but he knows he can’t. Louis isn’t his to touch after all. Louis stops the alert with fumbling fingers, his breaths quick and panicked.

“Louis?” Harry says, hating that it still comes out sounding like a gentle caress, “what’s that about?”

Louis’ eyes shoot up to his, wild and panicked, like a deer caught in headlights and he begins to gasp, clearly hyperventilating. Harry doesn’t care in this moment who Louis belongs to or even that Louis’ probably using him for sex while he’s got a boyfriend of three years waiting at home. He just wants it to stop. He slides across the sleeping bag to rest on Louis’ and squeezes Louis’ cheeks, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Lou,” he says, containing the hurt trying to burst its way through, “Lou, I need you to breathe for me. Just like in archery.”

Harry lets his hand trail down Louis’ long sleeved grey shirt to his stomach where he presses gently.

“When I press, you breathe…remember?” He says carefully and watches the understanding dawn in Louis’ blue eyes.

Louis nods jerkily and so Harry presses in time with his own breaths, until Louis’ gasps transform into soft exhales and their breathing falls into such an identical rhythm that Louis’ chest rises exactly in time with his own.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, relieved, “Okay, you’re okay.”

Harry scoots back now, watching Louis’ face crease in confusion. It’s not as if Harry usually pulls away before he has to. Yet this is different. Things are different now.

“I saw,” Harry says, voice hard, “I saw your alert. Elliot,” Louis flinches and Harry takes it as confirmation, “your boyfriend right?”

Louis’ eyes shatter into a million pieces before Harry. One minute he looks like a terrified rabbit being stalked by a fox, intent on dinner and the next he’s Rose parting with Jack, Romeo without Juliet, he’s anybody who has ever said goodbye. Anybody who has ever lost somebody. Harry wants to take it back.

“Louis, I’m so sorry,” he gasps reaching out to grab Louis’ hand but Louis rips it away.

 He curls in on himself and away from Harry. Shutting him out again.

“Louis,” Harry pleads, voice breaking, “please just talk to me. Write it down…on a post it note if you want. Just tell me I’m a terrible human being. I’m sorry I assumed…I didn’t know that…Louis, please.”

Louis doesn’t budge. Harry thinks he might be trembling where he lies at the very edge of his sleeping bag, tucking his knees up to his chest now as he rolls over to face the other side of the tent. Anything to avoid facing Harry. Harry feels worse than manure.

“I’m just going to give you some space. I’m…I’m sorry Lou,” Harry whispers, reaching out to brush a hand along Louis’ spine.

Louis shrinks away. The corners of Harry’s eyes burn. All throughout his shower, he plays it back, cursing his idiocy. Louis doesn’t have a boyfriend. He had one. A boyfriend who died. Yet Harry realises he doesn’t even know that much. It could be a family member, a friend for all he knows. The only thing he knows is that he accused Louis of cheating when all Louis is guilty of is having a tragic past. Harry hits his fist against the shower wall until his knuckles begin to bleed and one tiny, hopeless sob rips from his chest.

He’s marching back to the tent after his shower when two arms grab his and hold him place.

“Harry,” Zayn cries out, “Harry what’s wrong?”

“It’s Louis,” Harry says desperately.

“Shit Harry, is that blood?” Zayn asks, reaching down to touch the backs of Harry’s knuckles.

Harry rips his hand away.

“It’s fine. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to talk to him,” he says, already moving past Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t respond…or maybe he does and Harry just doesn’t hear it. Either way he bursts through the flap of the tent with a vengeance, intent on atoning for his sins. Only, he forgets all that when he finds Louis staring at his phone again in horror. This time it’s buzzing persistently against his thigh as he stares at the name on the screen.

“Mrs S”

“Louis?” Harry says cautiously, kneeling down in front of him, “are you going to answer that?”

Louis doesn’t respond and after a few minutes the phone stops. However it picks back up again pretty quickly and all the veins in Louis’ neck tighten, standing out as he holds back the emotion stirring beneath.

“Do you want me to answer it for you?”

“No,” Louis barks but Harry’s just relieved to hear him speak, even in hot headed anger.

Then Louis holds down the button on his phone to turn it off and shoves it beneath his pillow. He lies down on his bed, body bent in half, his knees pulled up and stares straight ahead, just left of Harry. He looks utterly devoid of life, his blue eyes vacant and ghost-like. Harry can’t bear it.

“Louis,” he says, “Lou, please don’t shut down. Don’t shut me out. Maybe I can help.”

Louis eyes break out of their stare to flicker up to Harry’s. He looks so lost. Immersed in a fiery prison world of pain that Harry would like to break him out of.

“You can’t,” he says, voice strained as if his voice box were being squeezed, “and I don’t want you to.”

Harry bites his lip, thinking and then decides, ah fuck it, if he won’t let me in, I’ll push my way in. It’s counterproductive to the whole getting Louis to trust him by NOT forcing him thing but Harry can’t take this anymore. Louis needs him. Louis needs him even if he doesn’t know it yet. Harry reaches forward and slides his hands beneath Louis’ arms, his thumbs pressing into the fronts of his shoulders as he lifts Louis who cusses and beats at Harry with tiny fists like a petulant infant. Harry just pulls him into his lap, securing an arm around his waist tightly to prevent him escaping as his legs fall either side of Harry’s waist.

“Let me go,” Louis says, anger sparking in his blue eyes, “let me go now.”

“No,” Harry growls back, refusing to give in.

Louis’ glare is hateful, his tone spiteful as he begins to beat against Harry’s chest once more.

“Get the fuck off. Get your hand off me. Get off,” he says venomously.

Harry removes his hand from Louis’ waist and encircles his wrists instead, preventing them from beating him.

“I’m not going to just let you lie there staring into space on your own and feeling terrible. I’m not leaving so you might as well stop trying to fight me on it.”

That’s what does it. Louis’ bottom lip starts to tremble and then a quiet sob breaks through his mouth much to his own horror. He raises trembling fingers to his lips, trying to contain anything further. Harry’s got no brain to mouth filter when it comes to Louis’ pain. His hand is pushing its way through Louis fringe as he speaks soft and slow.

“Baby, it’s okay to let it out.”

Louis hand moves from his mouth to Harry’s black Henley, grasping the fabric around Harry’s shoulder for a moment and squeezing. His eyelashes blink much more slowly and the blue of his eyes bleeds sadness. Then, the storm clouds give way and another sob escapes. Tears begin to roll down his tanned cheeks and he hunches forward, burying his face in Harry’s neck, soaking it with tears as his body heaves with the weight of his despair. Harry blinks back his own tears in response, his hand resting supportively on Louis’ back as he tries to soothe. He’s never been moved by another person’s pain quite like this.

“It’s okay,” he promises Louis, his own throat scratching painfully, “I promise it’s going to be okay. Just stop holding it all in so tightly.”

Harry’s not sure how long they sit like that or when he begins to rock Louis back and forth like a child as Louis hiccups into the hollow of his shoulder. Finally, Louis draws himself back on Harry’s lap with red rimmed eyes that look awfully swollen and sore. No sign of crinkles. Harry reaches up to rub a thumb across the skin around his eyes and Louis’ eyes only water again as he glances at Harry’s hand. Then his eyebrows pull together and Harry’s hand is suddenly ripped away as Louis grips it tightly, gazing down at it with distress. Harry looks down too and sees the faded traces of blood from his boxing session in the shower.

“Harry,” Louis says softly, his eyes full of anguish as he studies Harry’s face now, “what happened to your hand?”

Harry shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Louis’ face creases further and Harry watches with awe as Louis presses the inside of his hand. He brings Harry’s fist up to his mouth and ghosts his lips over Harry’s beaten knuckles, kissing each one.

“It matters to me,” he says, voice choked, “you matter to me.”

Harry’s throat feels so thick, so full. It’s all clogged up with the emotions this boy stirs up in him. He swallows it all down, just barely.

“C’mere,” Harry says, smiling weakly as he opens up his arms.

Louis slides back down his lap and Harry’s hand trails from his hair down to his back, over and over as Louis snuggles into him, his hand knitted in Harry’s shirt again. It takes a while but Harry realises Louis’ crying again, as his body begins to shake in Harry’s embrace. This time, Louis doesn’t wait for the tears to subside to speak. Yet his eyes are barely open when he pulls back, clearly exhausted from a day’s worth of despair and his hand is only loosely grasping Harry’s shirt now.

“Three years ago today, I killed my best friend,” Louis says, his chin wobbling, tears speeding down his face.

Then he flops against Harry and when Harry looks down, he finds dark eyelashes smudging olive skin instead of sad blue eyes. Louis is asleep. Harry simply lays down with Louis still attached, still clinging to him like a baby koala. He holds him that way, gazing intensely down at the face that even in sleep, looks inarguably sad. Harry sighs and brings his hand up, running it across the side of Louis’ face and through the side of his hair. He doesn’t know what the words mean. He doesn’t know the story yet. All he knows is the massive heart that beats in the tiny chest of the boy in his arms. The boy who’s made him feel more in the last few days than he’s ever felt in his life. He knows he will be here when Louis wakes up. He will be here and ready to listen so long as Louis is so inclined to tell him.

_You matter to me_

Harry hears it in his head over and over. The words said like an admission of guilt. So gentle but tied to so much pain, so much reticence. _You matter to me…but I don’t want you to._ That’s what Louis was really saying. Still, Harry can’t help but squeeze the underside of his thigh as the boy whose legs are wrapped around Harry’s waist pulls on the neckline of his shirt and lets out a quiet, needy noise.

“Harry,” he whimpers, closed eyes crinkling up with tension in his sleep.

It’s too much. It’s too much to hear Louis say his name that way, even unconsciously, as though Harry’s touch and his presence just might make a difference.

“I’m right here Lou,” Harry whispers hoarsely, to a sleeping Louis, who rubs his head across Harry’s shoulder, making Harry’s heart pulse tellingly with emotion, “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your responses. For instance, if you love vulnerable Louis just as much as I do or if you're like me before I wrote this story and prefer him to be a bit more in control, a bit stronger. Let me know if you felt things. Thank you for all your support. All the love ;) xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so WARNING for this chapter...there's some serious issues associated with depression. I don't like to give too much away but just tread carefully if it's at all a sensitive issue for you. Remember I'm always happy to talk about any negative thoughts...or positive ones and also, I'm sorry if you feel like I haven't done it justice but I have done my best and I haven't delved too deeply into something I can't say I have a huge amount of experience with.  
> Hopefully despite the seriousness and the angst, you enjoy this. This was another chapter where I found myself overwhelmed and caught up in emotion while writing so hopefully that comes across. Let me know xx

_Day Eighteen_

Harry makes it to the river by 7 am after finding Louis missing from the enclosure of his arms. He rushes through a shower, dressing in charcoal toned jeans and a matching beanie, a white jumper falling in folds around his body and offsetting the darker colours. Harry doesn’t find Louis by the water but when he spins around, scanning the horizon, he finds his eyes drawn to the hill overlooking the scene. There he sees a small figure hunched over. Louis.

It takes him awhile to make it up there but when he does, he’s immediately surprised. Louis’ got on sea green jeans that are plastered to his legs and a white shirt that stretches tight across his biceps with black braces extending up over his shoulders. He looks indecently beautiful as always but somehow even more himself. Harry’s breath stutters in his chest as he drifts over to Louis who sits on the very peak of the hill, casting his gaze out to the tentative rays of sunlight that streak out between the clouds.

“You look…”

“Different,” Louis finishes, not even turning his head as Harry sits down beside him.

He probably heard Harry’s far from graceful footsteps

“I don’t wear this stuff much anymore,” Louis continues, drawing a circle on his thigh.

“How come?”

“Wanted to be somebody else. I didn’t want to be who I was when I knew him,” Louis says in a hushed voice.

Harry’s soaking up this candidness with eager eyes and a slow, steady heart.

“Elliot?” He asks, carefully, watching Louis’ expression tighten and then solidify, frozen in that state.

His eyes meet Harry’s briefly, looking to him for any signs of judgement. Harry smiles his encouragement. Louis merely looks down to his hands, rubbing one over the other.

“Yeah, Elliot.” 

Harry watches as Louis Adam’s apple jumps and then reaches out and places a hand across his thigh.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Louis reaches out a hand and grabs Harry’s, locking their fingers together and turning their hands over on his leg without looking Harry’s way.

“I know,” he says, still sounding strained, “but I think I’m ready. I have to be.”

Harry just waits, rubbing his thumb across Louis’ hand in a soothing arc.

“I’ve never talked to anybody about it before,” Louis says in a rush of breath, “not my mum. Not my sisters. Not anyone back home. After it happened, I just locked it away. I changed. Pretended it didn’t exist…but I couldn’t go back to normal. I couldn’t let anyone close enough to see it bubbling away underneath. It was my burden alone.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do it alone Lou,” Harry protests.

There’s a sad curve of a smile on Louis’ face as he meets Harry’s eyes, the blue in his own holding steady but only just barely.

“I didn’t have to,” he says, gripping Harry’s fingers tighter, “I wanted to.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together.

“Why?”

“I deserved to. I deserved to suffer for what I did.”

Louis says this quite venomously, his eyes flying out to the ground below him with a kind of self-directed rage that scares Harry a little. His expression is entirely too pinched. Harry just wants to smooth out all the cracks, even knowing it’s simply not that easy.

He drags their conjoined hands down Louis’ cheekbone that juts out with his inner fury.

“No one deserves to suffer like that. Especially not you. You’re…incredible.”

“I’m not,” Louis drags their hands roughly back down to his thigh, “I’m not at all incredible. I killed him. I killed my best friend and nobody knows but me.”

One solitary tear slides down the curve of his cheek now and he exhales a shaky breath.

“You can tell me,” Harry says, his heart trying to stretch out of his chest towards Louis’, “tell me about it.”

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand now and scrubs his hands over his face, keeping them there as he talks, the sound slightly muffled but still comprehensible.

“Our mums met at one of those support groups for first time mothers. Hit it off real fast. Elliot and I got placed in the same crib so often that the rest of the women forgot which baby belonged to who. They even started dressing us the same. Thought it was hilarious.”

Harry’s smile is instantaneous at the thought of little Louis and his friend in matching onesies.

“Anyway,” Louis’ hands slide away from his face but he doesn’t let himself turn Harry’s way, “we grew up together. His mum was at our house constantly and if she wasn’t, we were at his. When my dad left, it was Mrs S that got mum through really. And I had in Elliot, a best mate. We both happened to like footie more than anything else. Used to go have a kick around at the local soccer oval almost every night after school. Then we’d go over to Elliot’s and Mrs S,” Louis’ eyes flicker Harry’s way for barely a moment, “she would make us tea and we’d regale her with the day’s events, finishing each other’s sentences and the like.”

“He sounds wonderful,” Harry says with a smile, forgetting for a moment that they’re talking about someone who passed away.

Yet Louis doesn’t talk about him in past tense. With shining eyes, he smiles back at Harry.

“He is. He’s the most wonderful person I’ve known.”

“Louis,” Harry says gently, reaching up to thumb at a new tear leaking from the corner of Louis’ eye.

“I’m okay,” Louis assures him with a throaty voice, “I just need to get it out.”

Harry nods.

“So, when we were about fourteen, we both went through….a change,” Harry raises his eyebrows, “I know it sounds weird that it happened to us at the same time but I dunno, maybe it was cause we grew up in each other’s pockets. We could have been twins for all that we had in common. So at about that age, I started to look at boys and he did too. Only….we reacted very differently.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry’s unconsciously leaning forward now.

“I didn’t….I didn’t,” Louis takes a laboured breath, “I couldn’t speak about it…to anyone. He told me he watched some stuff online and I told him it was okay, I did,” Louis’ voice is earnest, “but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. It was just too soon. There was this great, big scary thing happening inside me and I didn’t want to think about what that might mean for my life. I didn’t really…I mean, I couldn’t even admit it to myself properly until recently.”

“How recently?” Harry presses.

Louis chews on the side of his mouth before answering.

“Not until I met you,” Louis whispers, so quietly that Harry only just hears him, “not until Nathan asked you to be with him and you said yes and I decided that I couldn’t let it happen. In that moment, I just knew there was no fighting it.”

Harry’s hand reaches up of its own accord, turning Louis’ head his way and thumbing along his cheek.

“You’re so brave. You were so brave.”

Louis rips his face away, expression vehement.

“No Harry. No, you don’t know the half of it yet.”

“So tell me,” Harry pleads.

“Elliot was struggling. That year was real tough for him. He came out to his parents and his mum. Mrs S, she was great. She loved him all the more for telling her but his dad couldn’t understand it. His parents’ marriage disintegrated within the year and El blamed himself. He started coming over to my house in the afternoons instead and he’d just cry. He kept swearing he was going to run away but I managed to talk him down from the ledge every time. However, it wasn’t until the next year that things got real bad.

“When we were fifteen, Elliot got caught kissing this guy from the year below us. Everybody knew within hours. He was called a fag. I got called a fag just for hanging out with him. They did terrible things Harry, they spray painted ‘die queer’ on his locker and they said that his parents probably broke up because his dad’s gay too. He got real bad. It was like I was all there was for him after that. He wouldn’t go home even. He’d just slide into my bedroom in the middle of the night and we’d sleep in my bed together and then meet at school later. He hated it there though. Hated every minute of it.”

“That’s awful,” Harry says, rubbing a hand over Louis’ thigh to comfort.

Louis’ locked in his own personal hell though, barely registering the touch, his eyes glassy and full of tears that he won’t let himself shed as he ploughs ahead.

“And all that time, I said nothing. I didn’t want to go through what he had. Except one night, he caught me jacking off to some gay porn and that’s when it started. He kept bugging me about it, asking me if I was or I wasn’t, asking me how long I’d known and why I hadn’t told him. I tried to shut him out. I began to lock the window at night and when he approached at school, I’d walk away. One day though, he caught me after sport and it was just us. It was just us in the locker room and I couldn’t escape and I got so scared Harry, I-“ Louis’ voice cuts out as the pain rises up in his throat, cutting off any and all attempts at speech.

“Louis,” Harry soothes, squeezing Louis’ clammy hand briefly, “Lou, I’m right here.”

Louis nods determinedly and then lets out a shaky breath. This time, he turns to look at Harry. His eyes look like sheets of cerulean blue glass about to shatter into a million pieces as they sparkle, this time with tears, not mischief. His mouth is quivering and when he talks, his voice breaks continually, cracking and losing volume whenever the emotion gets too much.

“I told him to get out. Tried to barge through him even. He was so determined though, he was so brave. He knew what he wanted and maybe he always had. Maybe I just never noticed but he took me completely by surprise. He kissed me. He kissed me up against the wall and I was scared. I didn’t think of him that way but my body reacted. I liked it. And that scared the fuck out of me. So I pushed him away as violently as I could and I told him, my best friend of 15 years, and this boy I had known all of my life, that he disgusted me and that I never wanted to see him again.”

Louis starts to break, his breath hitching and stuttering, his chest rising and falling too quickly. Harry’s hands are on Louis’ cheeks and he’s just rubbing at the tears that spill, oozing out like big, fat droplets of liquid pain. They ease over Harry’s hands and Louis looks up at him like he holds all the answers. Like something broken wanting to be told how to fix itself. Or maybe not….maybe something twisted and tortured wanting to be told that it’s not a terrible nightmare, that it’s real because maybe if it’s real, it just won’t haunt him anymore. Harry can tell it has done so for the past three years.

“You were young and scared,” Harry says, feather light touch ghosting over Louis’ cheekbones, “you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis repeats in a wretched sob that pulls at the strings of Harry’s heart, “Of course I didn’t mean it. I just wanted him to stop, I just wanted it to stop. But I didn’t,” Louis sniffs loudly, trying to restrain the tears, “I didn’t want him to go away. I didn’t want him to leave me.”

“What happened Lou?” Harry asks now, holding Louis’ face still, tracing his shaking bottom lip with the soft pad of his thumb.

“He had no one. He didn’t go home to his mum anymore because he felt too much guilt. His dad didn’t want to see him. I…I told him where to go and almost everybody at school vindicated him and anybody who didn’t wouldn’t go near him because of his reputation. He was a pariah. He was a fucking pariah,” the words are spat out with so much anger, so much venom, “and all he needed was one person. One measly little person to tell him it would all be okay. All he needed was me. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there dammit.”

Louis clenches his eyes shut tight and digs his own fingers into his wrists hard but Harry pulls them away, grabbing his wrists to stop him from trying it again.

“Louis, it’s not your-“

His eyes fly open, flashing white hot with fury.  

“Don’t say it’s not my fault Harry,” he says ferociously, teeth practically bared, “because he killed himself a couples of weeks after I said those things to him. In the lead up to Christmas. Hung himself in his closet. His mum, my mum’s best friend…my second mum, found him hanging like a rag doll. Her son. Her only son.”

Harry doesn’t register his own tears until Louis reaches out to touch one, turning his finger over and examining it with a far off look in his eyes.

“I hope these are for Elliot. He would have liked you. Or maybe not, he was in love with me after all.”

Louis laughs darkly, completely humourlessly and Harry’s had enough. He pulls Louis into his lap and takes his jaw in his hands.

“Enough,” he says firmly, “stop that.”

The awful laughter dissipates but Louis still looks like someone threw him in a washing machine for a couple of hours and then wrung him out.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t live,” Harry gasps quietly at this and Louis’ face creases in response, “at least not the way I used to. I didn’t deserve to be happy. I don’t deserve to now.”

Harry is angry now as he presses his hand down against Louis’ lower back.

“So you sentenced yourself to a life of unhappiness?”

“Seems fair,” Louis grits out, “he’ll never feel anything again, why should I?”

“Because you didn’t kill him,” Harry says earnestly, trying to break through the granite walls that he can see forming in Louis’ eyes, “because maybe you said some terrible things but you were a kid and it wasn’t that, that killed him. It was his choice. It was a terrible, awful choice induced by sadness but it was his choice.”

Louis recoils.

“Are you blaming him?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, “of course not but I won’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame you either. There were so many things. You named them all. The bullying, his parents breaking up, his dad….it wasn’t just one thing…and you couldn’t have known. You were dealing with things too Louis. You made a mistake but it doesn’t mean you killed your best friend. It doesn’t mean you had to die along with him.”

“Doesn’t it?” Louis says bitterly, searching Harry’s eyes for a rebuke that won’t come as Harry encircles his waist, afraid to let him go, “you know why it hurt when you called me beautiful? Because the first time we went to a party, I wore these,” Louis flicks the inside of his brace violently, “and he said it was beautiful. He said I was beautiful. You know why I don’t play piano anymore? Because he taught me. We used to take it in turns to play songs for our mums. You think I’m good at footie Harry? He was better. He could have actually done something with it, he was that good. Probably would have been captain of the Donny Rovers. Do you want to know why I don’t like eating? Because I don’t want to consume what he can’t. I don’t want to enjoy what he never will.”

The words rush out of Louis and Harry races to keep up, his head spinning as he tries to swallow it all, all the secrets of Louis’ past, all the reasons for the scars on his skin. Harry watches as Louis’ quick breaths eventually level out and he stops squirming restlessly, just sitting in Harry’s lap and waiting patiently for him to respond. When Harry breaks the silence, it’s with low dulcet tones that are able to slip unnoticed past the barricades in Louis’ eyes.

“I wish I could tell you all the reasons he made that choice. All the minute details that got under his skin and messed with his brain and that had nothing to do with you. I wish I could give you the chance to talk to him and say sorry, not for killing him….but for what you said, so that you could heal,” Louis’ eyes fill with tears at the mention of talking to Elliot again, “and I wish that I could just convince you, just prove to you, that your life is as precious as it was three years ago before he died. If not, more so. You ignored her call yesterday. His mum. Why?”

“How can I talk to her?” Louis challenges, “how can I talk to her when she doesn’t know any of it? I haven’t seen her since the funeral. She came over at first, used to come into my room and try talk to me about him. She wanted me to tell her stories. I couldn’t even say his name Harry, let alone talk to her as if I wasn’t the reason she found him that way. Eventually she gave up, stopped coming round. Mum still goes to see her but I never have. She calls every year on the day he died and every year I ignore her.”

“I think talking to her might help,” Harry suggests.

“I don’t want help Harry. I don’t want to get better,” Louis says, bringing his hand up now to cup Harry’s face, “and I certainly don’t deserve you. I shouldn’t have let this begin. How did you make me forget Harry Styles? You made me forget what I am. A monster.”

“No, Louis,” Harry says, his heart stopping at Louis’ words, “you’re not a monster. You’re so good, you’re so good Louis. Anybody can see that.”

It’s not enough though. Louis slips out of Harry’s embrace, jumping up with frenzied eyes.

“I can’t do this with you. I have to…I can’t,” he says vaguely.

Harry starts to rise but Louis is already running and Harry knows he won’t catch him. He’s got longer legs but this time, Louis’ the one with all the incentive in the world. Escape Harry Styles.

…..

Louis doesn’t emerge from the tent all day and Harry chooses not to seek him out. It was a big morning after all. He hates leaving Louis alone in his sadness but maybe this time, it’s simply best to give Louis a chance to muddle out his thoughts and think over the things Harry’s said to him. The rest of the boys seem to think so too as Harry briefs them on the situation without telling them the story of Elliot. That’s Louis’ secret, not his. They’re seated at lunch and Liam’s leaning across the bench with a mournful expression, clearly moved by the fact that Louis finally spoke to somebody about his past.

“The fact that he speaks to you at all,” Liam shakes his head in disbelief, “but the fact that he told you what happened to him. That’s….huge. You must mean so much to him Harry. You’re right to leave him be, he probably needs time to come to terms with telling you the truth.”

“I don’t know how much it could mean,” Harry says contemplatively, “I’ve barely know him a month. Besides, that’s not what matters. I just want him to be okay. Even if he doesn’t want,” Harry breathes out deeply, “even if he doesn’t want me, I just want him to be happy.”

Niall nudges him, an unusually serious expression in his eyes as he looks Harry over.

“You’re right Haz. You know I won that stupid bet we made but I couldn’t care less. I just hope Louis can pull it together, for your sake and his own. If he’s that cut up, it must have been terrible whatever it was. He’s a good guy. He deserves to be happy,” Niall says earnestly.

“I just wish he knew that,” Harry mutters.

“Maybe,” Zayn says thoughtfully, “you finally gave him a big enough reason to be happy that it frightened him out of his wits. I think he just needs to work through that…get used to the idea that happiness doesn’t equate to forgetting your past. It doesn’t mean you have to change who you are or who you’ve been.”

Liam smiles beatifically at Zayn at this and then their mouths are locked together, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Harry asks, leaning in to Niall’s side to whisper as he eyes the couple mid-snog, “because all that does is remind me that I can fix them but I can’t fix Louis.”

Niall just tilts his head, his blue eyes kind as he responds.

“You let him do the fixing H. You’re only supposed to provide the tools, remember?”

“You sound like a proper cliché,” Harry teases.

Niall’s grin reappears and Harry’s mouth twitches marginally.

“Well when you’re down in the dumps, I pick up your slack as The Big Cheese.”

Harry pushes Niall away who cackles predictably. Harry is relieved to note some things never change. However, he’s more than a little concerned when at dinner, Paul proves unsuccessful in his attempt to drag Louis out.

“Harry,” he huffs, marching up to Harry who’s just spooning some curry into a bowl, trying so hard not to think about his tumultuous morning.

“Yes?”

“He won’t come out. Wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag so tight I couldn’t even get him out. Is he okay? I mean… I know he’s not okay. He never is…but you two have been spending so much time away from the group. I thought… I dunno, I thought he was better with you,” Paul says.

Harry places his bowl down on the table before him and turns to face Paul.

“I’d like to request a separate tent for the night,” Harry says, watching as Paul’s eyebrows knit together with confusion, “just for tonight. He’s in a bad way and I think…I think my presence might make it worse. Please Paul.”

“On one condition,” Paul says with foreboding, holding up a plump finger.

“What is it?”

Paul pulls his phone from his pocket and silently dials a number and then hands the phone to Harry.

“Um…”

Paul just turns and walks away. Harry stares after him for a moment, holding the phone out with absolute befuddlement. Then he hears the muted sounds of someone saying hello and so with an annoyed huff, he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Hello? Paul?” the gentle, feminine voice asks, “Paul, is my son okay?”

“Hello,” Harry says, sounding totally unsure of himself.

“Oh…hi,” the voice registers surprise, “who’s this?”

“Harry. Harry Styles,” Harry clarifies, “who are you?”

The woman’s voice bubbles over with excitement.

“Oh Harry love! I’ve heard so much about you from Paul. Louis kept ducking my questions when I spoke to him last, not sure why as you sound entirely too lovely. Paul said you’ve been a great mediator for my boo bear. He said you boys get on like a house on fire. Hard to believe really…I mean, Louis’ no open book and I really didn’t think it was possible that-“

“Mrs Tomlinson?” Harry interrupts the gushing words, his eyes wide with the realisation that he’s talking to Louis’ mum.

“Oh call me Jay Harry!” She says brightly.

“Okay….Jay. I uh, I don’t know why but Paul kind of handed me the phone. Guess he wanted me to talk to you…?” Harry says, a question in his tone.

“Yeah,” Jay chirps and Harry can practically feel her head nodding eagerly through the phone, “I’ve been hounding him about it. I wanted to speak to the great and the powerful Harry Styles. The boy my boo bear had a food fight with apparently.”

Harry’s mind casts back to the cake mixture. A fond smile graces his lips as he turns away from the hordes of people in the centre, covering his other ear to block out the noise.

“Your son is special,” Harry says out of nowhere, the words bursting from deep in his consciousness as if they’d merely been waiting for this opportunity to be catapulted out into open air.

“He is,” Jay agrees and Harry can hear the smile in her voice, “he’s the most special person I know. I’m glad you think so.”

“He told me,” Harry says now, not knowing where this utter honesty is coming from but suspecting it’s something to do with the motherly love he can feel emanating from the woman on the phone.

It reminds him a great deal of his own mum. 

Jay gasps.

“Is he…is he…”

“He’s not good,” Harry admits, mouth turned down in a frown, “but I’m just giving him his space.”

Jay’s voice is wet sounding and desperate when she speaks.

“Don’t give him too much space Harry. Please. Please don’t let him wallow or just sink into that bad place again because-“

“Mrs Tomlinson,” Harry cuts her off, “I mean….Jay. I promise you that I won’t leave him alone. It’s just for now. I just gave him some things to think about. I need him to think about them without me there getting his back up and raising his defences. He’s…” Harry’s voice goes soft and he only realises how needy he sounds after he’s said it, “he’s got to see what I see. When he closes his eyes tonight, maybe he will.”

“Harry.”

The name sounds so intimate the way Jay says it, as if they were friends of many years and not merely two strangers with a common interest.

“Yes?”

“Don’t give up on him. I can hear it…in your voice,” Harry swallows nervously, “that protectiveness. The kind of compassion you only have for someone who’s got your heart in their hand. Please just…maybe you can finally get through to him.”

“I won’t give up,” Harry breathes, “I promise.”

“Thank you Harry.”

“No, thank you Jay.”

“What for?” she asks.

“For bringing him into this world,” Harry sighs softly.

There’s a loud sniff down the line and then Jay hangs up, obviously overwhelmed. Harry finds Paul and hands the phone back to him with something akin to a smile.

“All good?” Paul checks.

“Better than good,” Harry confirms.

_Day Nineteen_

After Harry has breakfast, he goes back to Louis’ and his tent to check on Louis. When he climbs in, Louis is lying on his side, reading his book with a little furrow of concentration between his eyebrows. He looks much better but Harry senses this might involve a struggle anyway.

“Hey,” Harry breathes, sitting down before him.

Louis’ eyes rise from his book to Harry’s for a moment before they promptly drop back down again.

“I was just wondering if you were planning on eating anything anytime soon,” Harry says, his voice unnaturally high.

Louis arches his eyebrows, with a look that says ‘what do you think?’

“Please,” Harry gasps, wishing he knew how to be anything other than desperate.

Louis’ eyebrow furrow further but he continues to peruse his book, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry won’t be ignored though. He gave Louis his space. Now it’s time for the both of them to confront their issues. He rips Louis’ book out of his hands and tosses it onto his bag. Louis looks at a loss, staring at his hands as if confused as to where the book went.

“You need to stop this,” Harry says, anger imminent in his tone.

Louis’ own eyes flash with frustration.

“It’s none of your business,” he snaps, a little spitfire whose anger is, unlike him, less than petite in stature.

“You’re my buddy. Of course it’s my business!”

“Is that all?” Louis sneers, scrambling into a sitting position and crossing his legs, “Seemed like I was a lot more than that the past couple of days.”

Harry grabs Louis’ knees and squeezes, holding his suddenly frightened blue eyes that flash down to Harry’s hands as if afraid of their power.

“Stop,” Harry growls, “stop being like that.”

“This is so messed up Harry,” Louis laughs bitterly, “you messed everything up.”

Harry purposely neglects to remind him that he’s the one who kissed Harry, not the other way round.

“I know,” he says instead, eyes turning down at the corners as his thumbs stroke Louis’ knees, “that’s what I’m here for.”

Harry doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say but in this moment, he knows it has to be done. Yes, he promised Jay he wouldn’t give up and he won’t….but not as what she wanted him to be. He won’t give up on Louis as his mediator. Things have just gotten so messy and maybe that’s the problem. Maybe if the lines weren’t so blurred, Harry could genuinely help Louis.

“What?”

“If you try,” Harry says carefully, “if you come out right now and eat like a normal human being and speak up and maybe, I dunno, even engage with the real world…I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go?” Louis repeats in a strangely hollow tone, his cheeks hallowed in slightly as if sucking in more oxygen.

Harry nods.

“I won’t be anything but your mediator and perhaps your friend. If that’s what you want. If you just stop actively making yourself unhappy, I’ll un-complicate things for you. That’s what you want right?”

Louis just stares at him, eyes slightly off focus.

“Louis…?” Harry prompts.

Louis’ eyes refocus but they look slightly bent out of shape as though only waiting to dart off in different directions again and away from Harry. He can’t even look at Harry without effort. What a great start to their friendship.

“Yes,” Louis agrees but he sounds like someone’s got him in a chokehold which baffles Harry, “that would be easier. That’s what I want.”

“Okay,” Harry says, only a touch unsteadily as he claps his hands together and stands, “time for breakfast.”

Louis accompanies him to the centre but Harry pauses at the entrance.

“I’m just going to go have a shower,” he explains, jabbing his thumb backward in its direction.

Louis’ eyes tense around the word shower but he just nods woodenly and then enters the warehouse, leaving Harry standing there, his head hanging low now that Louis’ gone.

“I’m gone for you Louis Tomlinson,” Harry whispers into the empty air, shaking his head with defeat as he saunters away.

….

When Harry enters the centre, intent on checking on Louis and now washed and changed into dark grey tracksuit pants and a loose black shirt, he’s surprised by the image before him. Louis’ sitting in Harry’s seat next to Niall and across from Zayn and Liam….and he’s talking animatedly. His eyes are lit up like blue jewels, his mouth half open in a laugh as the other three boys lean forward unconsciously, all laughing raucously, even Liam who rarely does anything raucously. Harry approaches, squeezing his way in between Liam and Zayn and frowning as Louis falters just noticeably in his speech.

“So the phone said don’t dial nine but we were absolute idiots so of course, we dialled nine,” Louis says with a grin which sends the boys into more fits of laughter, “and I don’t think either of us had ever copped a hiding quite like that.”

“Who’s we?” Harry asks.

“Elliot and I,” Louis says, his eyes brushing Harry’s with shiny eyed sadness but he smiles, a true smile and Harry wonders if his vow to leave Louis alone mightn’t be having a positive effect after all.

“Oh,” Harry says, letting his own quiet smile fill his eyes.

They just stare at each other for a few moments, the sounds of people eating breakfast dying in Harry’s ears. All he can hear is a silky, rough-at-the-edges whisper permeating the edges of his mind…. _exquisite._

“Alright, alright,” Niall breaks the silence, giving Harry a meaningful look, “enough with the longing looks. We get it. You guys are a couple.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest but Louis beats him to it.

“We’re not a couple,” he says swiftly, “we never were.”

Does he sound a touch mournful? Harry can’t be sure. It doesn’t make much sense. Louis wanted out. He wanted Harry to stop trying to get inside him and fix him. He didn’t want someone to make him happy. So Harry stopped trying….at least directly.

“Could have fooled me,” Zayn chimes in, smirking at Louis.

“I think he’s going to regret opening his mouth around you guys if you keep at it,” Harry warns, sending glares around the table despite the fact that Liam hasn’t said anything at all.

This clearly bothers them though because their smirks die on their faces and their mouths twist with regret.

“It’s okay,” Louis says breezily, extending one hand to Niall and one to Zayn, brushing along their wrists so easily, without so much as a beat of hesitance, that it kind of makes it hard for Harry to breathe around the hurt, “he’s just being over protective. You know what mediators are like. Not a humorous bone in their bodies.”

Niall and Zayn crow their protests, ripping their hands away from Louis who laughs heartily, clearly enjoying their reactions.

“Did you guys hear about where we’re going tonight?” Liam pipes up, smiling broadly.

“Where?” Harry asks.

“The carnival that’s in town invited us. We get to go for free. You know what that means?”

“Niall will eat too much fairy floss and run around like a lunatic for a couple of hours?” Harry offers.

Niall grins, almost proud. Liam’s eyebrows pull together.

“Ah…I guess,” he says uncertainly, “but no. It means we get to go on all the rides as many times as we’d like without paying a thing.”

“Great,” Zayn grumbles.

Louis’ lips quirk.

“You don’t like rides?”

“Not even the Ferris wheel,” Liam answers for him, pulling Zayn into his side with amusement clear in the set of his mouth, “you’re not living up to your bad boy rep, are you?”

Zayn pushes him away with a scowl.

“I can help you,” Louis says brightly.

Everybody looks at him curiously.

“I used to have a friend who had this really weird fear of trains. Went on one with me and he’s never been afraid since.”

“I dunno…” Zayn says uncertainly, “I mean, do I really need to get over my fear?”

Louis’ teeth shine in the fluorescent light as his grin broadens.

“I know you’re scared mate but just let me try, just once,” he begs.

After a beat of silence, Zayn gives his assent.

“Fine,” he sighs, “but I’m not going on anything other than the Ferris wheel. That’s as much as I can deal with.”

……

Harry thinks Zayn must have been being a tad too optimistic when he’d agreed to Louis’ plan earlier. Their buddies are all on the merry go round next to the Ferris wheel while Niall, Liam and Harry stand at the base of it, craning their necks up to watch as Zayn proceeds to flip out, turning his head this way and that as if looking for a way to get down.

“He’s going to have an aneurysm,” Liam says worriedly, “maybe we should make them stop it. Get him down.”

“No,” Niall argues, pointing up at the two boys with a smile, “look. Louis’ talking to him.”

They all watch with fascination as Zayn’s twitchiness slowly begins to fade and he focuses solely on Louis, throwing his head back with laughter every time Louis speaks. When their ride is over and they saunter out to Liam, Harry and Niall, he looks remarkably content. Louis just looks too much like a damn T-Bird with his leather jacket, white shirt and dark jeans. He’d left his own jacket behind in his haste to get going so Zayn had offered him his leather jacket just before they got on the Ferris wheel. It’s too big, much too big but it still looks way too good, contrasting with the azure blue eyes and tanned skin. Harry would like to tug him close. He doesn’t, of course.

“How was it?” Liam asks, holding out his arms for Zayn to step into.

“Brilliant,” Zayn replies and he truly is glowing.

“What were you talking to him about?” Harry questions Louis with a curious tilt of his head that makes his curls fall across his eyes.

Louis reaches out to sweep them away and then his hand freezes mid-air and falls awkwardly to his side.

“He was telling me about his cooking expertise,” Zayn fills in, turning in Liam’s arms to share a conspirator grin with Louis.

Harry feels a deep, dark stab of envy in his gut. Or maybe something just south of envy. He smirks at Louis anyway with raised eyebrows. Louis’ teeth break his lips.

“What?” Niall asks looking between the three boys with confusion, “I don’t get it.”

“C’mon then,” Louis beckons to the blonde boy whose eyes light up as he trails after him, “let’s go for a ride.”

Once the two boys have departed, Zayn turns to Harry with a sparkle in his hazel eyes.

“He’s great Harry,” Zayn gushes, “he’s so great.”

Liam nods his agreement.

“If he can get Zayn to laugh like that on a Ferris wheel, he’s got the goods. Why aren’t you two together again?”

“Because he’s my buddy,” Harry says, completely exasperated, “and look how easy things are for him when we’re not involved. He’s happy.”

“He’s trying to be,” Liam corrects, “but you asked him to be, didn’t you? That’s why this morning when he came over to talk to us, he kept looking over to the doors, waiting for you to come in and spot him. He wants to make you proud Harry. That’s why he’s trying so hard.”

Harry feels his heart beat more persistently in his chest at the thought.

“I doubt that-“

“I mentioned your name up there,” Zayn points up to the Ferris wheel, “just said you’d probably be a better companion than me. He practically melted down the seat.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry scoffs.

Liam and Zayn roll their eyes together. Niall and Louis depart from the Ferris wheel a minute later with breathy laughs and matching lively blue eyes, Niall slapping at his knee as they draw closer.

“Liam!” Louis announces loudly and the fair haired boy jumps just slightly in response, “your turn.”

Liam looks kind of honoured that Louis would consider him and Harry smiles fondly, gesturing for him to follow as Louis’ already turned and is walking quickly away.

“You’re next Haz,” Niall says in his ear.

By this point, watching Louis saunter away with his tight pants framing his bum and the collar of Zayn’s leather jacket brushing intimately against his throat has changed Harry’s tune. He just wants to be next to him. Even if he can’t touch. Even if he has to sit on his hands to stop himself from touching. Just as the anticipation threatens to kill him, Liam and Louis return to the group, Louis knocking his shoulder against Liam who returns the gesture with a sincere smile.

However Louis doesn’t look at Harry and he doesn’t ask him to accompany him next. Instead, he turns to Zayn with a wide smile that shows his teeth.

“You and Liam want to come to the dodgem cars with me? Paul’s watching the kids.”

The two boys nod eagerly and Louis links their arms, the three of them marching off together like the three bloody musketeers and leaving Harry and Niall behind.

“Did that just happen?” Harry asks, feeling dumbstruck.

Niall’s hand rubs over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry mate.”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry says, voice tight, “I’m giving him space…he’s revelling in it. It’s great to see him so happy.”

“C’mon Haz,” Niall says, giving Harry a long look, “you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s utter shit. He just ignored you completely.”

“You’re right,” Harry exhales, “it sucks.”

Harry kind of loses all interest in the carnival after that. Niall gets pulled away by a bouncy, over excited Colin and so Harry just drifts around the grounds, unable to handle the heavy feeling in his chest. Finally after a few hours of aimless drifting, his eyes fall on a competition set up in which you have to hit three targets with a dart to win a prize.

Harry’s always been quite good at darts. It’s kind of like a variation of archery. So he lets his feet carry him over and holds out his hand to the middle aged, bald man with a paunch who shoves half a hot dog in his mouth as he hands over the darts and watches Harry take aim. Harry hits all three targets and the man looks quite peeved.

“Whaddya want?” He asks with a vaguely irritating American twang, gesturing to the soft toys lined up against the wall.

Harry’s eyes fall on a massive whitish blonde bear with red shorts and black braces. Harry points it out to the man who shoves it into Harry’s arms, overwhelming him completely as he stumbles backward under its weight. He spends the next ten minutes toting it around, his face barely visible from beneath until something, or rather someone, plucks it from his arms and places it on the grass.

“Is that a Harry Styles I see beneath this massive bear?” Louis teases, a glimmer of humour shining in his eyes.

Harry sucks in a breath as Louis jacket falls open slightly not only revealing how tightly his shirt fits his body but also revealing his navy blue braces. It’s too alluring. Harry hates him for being so beautiful. Truly he does.

“Boo bear.”

The nickname falls from Harry’s mouth accidentally and his own eyes widen in response. Louis’ own eyes pop too.

“Did you just…did you just call me boo bear?”

“No…I-“

“Harry,” Louis says, a threat stirring beneath his voice as he steps closer.

Harry picks up the bear, using it as his defence as he backs slowly away from the beautiful boy stalking towards him like a deadly predator on the hunt. Yet Louis just rips the bear away from his hands.

“How do you know that nickname?” He demands.

“I spoke to your mum last night,” Harry explains quickly watching Louis’ eyes go even rounder, “she mentioned it.”

“What…why did you speak to her?”

Louis looks almost fearful.

“She was bugging Paul about it apparently.”

“And what did you talk to her about?” Louis interrogates, placing his tiny hands on his equally tiny hips.

Somehow it’s still vaguely threatening.

“You.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“What about me?”

“She’s just worried about you. She just wanted to know how you were doing. That’s all,” Harry lies.

Louis studies his face for traces of deception for a moment but then must come to an incorrect conclusion as he sighs submissively.

“Fine. I guess that’s okay then.”

Harry lifts the bear up off the grass next to them and shoves it into Louis’ arms.

“Harry, what the hell are you doing?” Louis says brusquely, stumbling a little.

“Giving you your bear. I won it for you,” Harry says, just a touch of vulnerability colouring his tone.

Louis turns around or rather the bear turns around and Harry presumes Louis does too beneath it and begins to stumble away.

“Where are you going?” Harry calls after him.

“Wait there,” he yells back.

Harry watches with confusion until he sees Louis reappear from beneath the bear as he approaches Niall where he leans over the dodgem car arena, watching Colin race around the track. He hands Niall the bear and then walks quickly back to Harry, grabbing his hand and pulling. Harry’s eyes shoot down to the way Louis’ fingers are curled around his. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“It’s your turn,” Louis says softly.

Harry doesn’t understand but he lets Louis drag him away and when they reach the Ferris wheel, he looks over at Louis with fondness emanating from his eyes. It flows across the space between them, filling it up with something sticky and sweet.

“Finally,” he sighs.

Louis’ lips twitch. Once they’re seated on the ride and it starts to turn, Harry feels suddenly overcome with nerves. Being alone with Louis feels like too much temptation. So instead of gazing into blue, blue eyes that reflect the light of the moon, Harry chooses to look up at the sky itself. He takes in the silvery, white glow of the moon and the stars that are only partially swallowed up by the murky darkness of winter. He tips his head back, letting the glow spill down his milky, white throat as the wheel turns and they approach the apex. He feels Louis’ eyes on him and it burns him just right, just wrong. Just like before. So he begins to prattle.

“I’ve always really liked coldplay’s music because like Chris Martin was kind of like a hero of mine but I think I just really like ensembles and groups you know. Like the script. Went to see them a couple of years back. They were brilliant. The Fray…they’re good too. You know, I even thought music could be my thing but then I found counselling and it all kind of changed from there. Mum still thinks that music is more than a pastime but your mum always thinks you’re better than you are right and-“

“Harry,” Louis says near silently.

“I just wanted to help people and so I sort of shoved the music thing aside a bit and thought well if it happens, it happens but for now I’m content to-“

“Harry,” Louis says again, a little more forcefully this time.

Harry reluctantly turns to meet his eyes and their faces are so close, they might as well be kissing. They’re breathing the same air. Harry wants to kiss him so badly. His eyes flicker down to Louis’ lips watching with bated breath as Louis’ tongue traces his bottom lip. Louis parts his mouth, inching ever so slowly closer but just as Harry’s eyelashes begin to flutter, he slides past, to whisper in Harry’s ear instead.

“Thank you for the bear,” he breathes raggedly.

Harry shudders. He wants so much more.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters just as the Ferris wheel comes to a standstill.

As they walk off the ride, Harry wonders if he’ll even make it through the next twenty four hours without breaking his new cardinal rule. It’s like now that he’s had a taste of Louis, he just can’t go back to how it was before. He’s got no control whatsoever.

Later that night, Harry changes in the bathroom, pulling on his thick, winter pyjamas knowing that he must make the effort that he used to, to make Louis comfortable. No more bare chests and briefs. He’s got to cover up. However it seems Louis has spared him no such curtesy because when he returns to the tent, Louis’ clothed in nothing but tiny, navy briefs that hug his bum, his sleeping bag half unzipped and clearly having fallen off him in his sleep. Harry sees why it’s unzipped as Louis’ spooning the massive bear and he clearly couldn’t fit it in his sleeping bag.

His legs are tangled around the bear’s stomach, his arms twined around its’ chest and his head is snuggled into its shoulder, a serene smile on his face as he lets out soft, relaxed breaths and then hitches his legs up a little bit higher on the bear. Harry wouldn’t mind being the damn bear right now. With careful fingers, Harry pulls the sleeping bag back over Boo bear and his bear.

The image alone is burned into Harry’s brain when he finally closes his eyes. Semi naked Louis spooning the bear Harry got for him. Harry can’t decide whether it’s sexy or adorable. He finally decides on some combination of both and realises, quite painfully, that if things continue this way for the rest of camp, he’s going to go quietly insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if that hurt a little but I promise that things get better. I am not going to torture you guys forever. Promise xx


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I'm posting ANOTHER chapter but alas I am enjoying people's responses too much and I have no self control. So here it is. The song mentioned (beautiful disaster by Kelly Clarkson) is another one I would recommend listening to beforehand to get the full effect. And a live version if you can. If give in to me wasn't the theme song for this fic, this would be the song I would have chosen.   
> And as always...because if I didn't say it, you'd be sad...let me know what you think/whether you enjoyed it or not xx

The next few days pass in what feels like a blur of surreptitious glances Louis’ way and a burning ache in Harry’s chest that tells him this isn’t going anywhere, that this feeling inside him is filling him up more and more with every passing day.

_Day Twenty_

Harry’s woken by soft fingers brushing over his arm and when he opens his eyes, he finds Louis with the bear pressed up against his body, his head tucked over its shoulder. His hair is slightly spiky at the ends and endearingly messy and his eyes are like blue felt probing Harry’s face intensely. He draws his hand away from Harry’s arm but it scarcely matters. He looks far too adorable with his arms tangled around the bear and Harry has to fight the urge to pull the bear out of the way and kiss him.

“Morning,” Louis says quietly, his voice rough and sleep hazed in a way that sends slight tremors all over Harry’s body.

“Is there….” Harry pauses, swallowing noisily, “why did you wake me?”

“Thought maybe we could talk,” Louis suggests with a twist of his lips.

“Oh.”

“Maybe get to know each other better. You know, now that I’ve discovered the power of speech,” Louis muses, tapping his bottom lip meaningfully.

Harry has no self-control at this hour. He pulls Louis’ finger away needily and then….then, he realises himself and lets it fall. Louis’ expression is quizzical but Harry avoids answering it with his own.

“Great idea,” Harry agrees brusquely, trying to pretend he didn’t just lose himself because Louis pressed a finger to his mouth.

“Tell me about your friends,” Louis requests, planting his head in his hand as he pushes up on one elbow.

“Oh…I’m starting,” Harry says, eyes widening, nervous for god knows what reason, “well there’s Niall,” Louis rolls his eyes, “and then Nick I guess. They’re my best mates.”

“And…what is Nick like?” Louis needles.

A nostalgic smile graces Harry’s lips as he flips through his memories.

“Nick is like…..like the kind of person that is perpetually excited by the world. A lot like Niall in that respect but there’s this bitter edge to it. Like he loves life…but he also likes to make of fun just about everyone. He’s just very….sophisticated. Kind of introduced me to half of what I wear,” Harry says, smiling ruefully.

Louis’ cheeks twitch tellingly.

“I should probably thank him then.”

Harry’s laugh bursts from his chest with surprise.

“Thank you for that,” he says with laughing green eyes.

Louis flicks his dimple, his expression playful.

“You’re welcome curly.”

“But tell me…you and Nick ever…” Louis’ face tenses up as his sentence trails off.

Harry’s eyes fasten upon his fingers which squeeze the bears paws tightly.

“We had a thing yeah,” Harry admits, watching Louis’ eyes tighten just barely, “but it was never equal you know. He wanted more from me than I was prepared to give.”

“He didn’t try to force you into anything did he?” Louis reaches across and covers Harry’s wrist with his hand as he speaks, his eyes turning deadly.

Harry softens under that protectiveness, smiling peacefully.

“No, not like that. He just wanted to be with me and I didn’t want that. Somehow it didn’t make things too weird. Perhaps because Nick is very good at pretending things are okay when they’re not. I felt awful about it for a long time.”

Louis hand tightens around his wrist, squeezing a little.

“It’s not your fault Harry. It’s not like you lead him on…” Louis pauses, a panicked glint in his blue eyes that Harry tries without success, to decipher, “did you?”

“No,” Harry assures him, “we hooked up one time when we’d been out drinking,” Louis flinches, Harry tries not to think on it, “and then it happened once or twice after that when we ended up at each other’s flats after a couple of big nights. But I never gave the impression I wanted more. I don’t know why I didn’t really…Nick’s great…it’s just…”

“So maybe you should try with him?”

 Louis’ voice is casual but he clutches the bear tighter against his body and his eye creases are too tightly shrivelled to denote happiness.

“Is that what you think I should do?” Harry asks, swallowing down the pain in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t need Louis to tell him not to be with somebody else. It’s got nothing to do with Louis now. So why does it still feel like it does? Louis’ smile is plastered to his face, frozen in this state of ingenuity that Harry wants to think means something. He wants Louis’ veins to burn hot with jealousy and it’s ridiculous.

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy Harold.”

“Literally?”

Harry feels like a gluttony for punishment. Louis’ expression tightens even further if that’s possible and he squeezes Harry’s wrist so hard, it goes white as the blood rushes away from the pressure and then abruptly lets go.

“Yes, if that makes you happy….go do whomever is offering.”

The words are silky and soft but Harry can feel the needles pricking into him from beneath.

“Look Louis-“

Louis stands up and tries to crawl over Harry to the flap of the tent.

“It’s fine Harry. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. I thought it might be nice to know more about you but maybe I’ll just go eat breakfast because-“

Harry encircles Louis’ wrist and tugs him down violently. Louis falls on his chest with a loud ‘oomph’ and he braces himself, pushing pencil thin fingers against Harry’s pectorals. It reminds Harry far too much of the way Louis’ had pressed his fingers against there just a few days ago.

“Sorry,” Harry gasps, all oxygen fleeing his lungs.

Louis’ fingers scrunch again, the same way they had before and his blue eyes lose all focus, his legs slipping down either side of Harry’s torso and rustling against the sleeping bag. He’s clad only in briefs and Harry’s eyes go immediately to his dick, covered only by a thin sheen of fabric, pushing up against Harry’s stomach. Harry can feel its thickness and he’s about to start getting thick himself if he keeps staring. Louis seemingly breaks out of his trance as he looks down at his own hands, clearly startled by their position and then rolls back to his side of the tent.

“I do want us to get to know each other better,” Harry explains, “but let me ask you something.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees, staring intently up at the roof of the tent, his fingers splayed over his own chest.

His lower arms look tiny tucked into the sides of the body and yet his biceps still stick out pointedly, sending Harry’s head in dizzy circles with his contradictions.

“Why do you want to study youth work next year? Kids like Benji?” Harry ventures a guess.

“Kind of,” Louis whispers and Harry has to turn on his side, inching closer to hear him, “I guess I wanted a career that meant I could get people out of bad situations. Maybe stop these things from happening every once in a while.”

“If you can see that there might be other factors in these kids’ lives that make them pull the trigger, why can’t you see that with Elliot?” Harry asks, eyes roving over Louis’ face.

Louis closes his eyes, clenching them tightly.

“Elliot’s different Harry.”

“How? He’s just like those kids you’re going to be helping.”

Louis turns maddened eyes on Harry. They’re bursting with flecks of frenzied emotion and Harry just wants to hold him again and make it all go away.

“You’re exactly right. He’s like them, only they’re going to receive my help and he never did. I did nothing,” Louis says venomously.

“You were there for him when his parents broke up, you let him sleep in your bed and you were still his friend even when people hated him for being gay. Sounds like you were a pretty good friend to me. The only thing that got in the way was fear, fear of the unknown and god Lou, haven’t we all been scared before? You were a kid. You’re not anymore. Maybe you just weren’t ready for it then and it’s tragic but what about all the other kids from school and his dad? What about the people who did worse, who hurt for no reason other than that they couldn’t contain their own hatred. What about them? Are they suffering like you are?”

Harry doesn’t realise how unusually quickly he’s been speaking until he finishes and is left panting for breath. Louis rolls over onto his side and then reaches out a hand. Harry watches with needy eyes as Louis buries it in his curls. His eyes close against his will as his body betrays him, his head turning to nuzzle the side of Louis’ arm. When Louis pulls away, he wants to cry out.

“You’re like a ferocious lion with a curly mane,” Louis’ cracks a smile, stroking a hand over the side of Harry’s curls again, “so angry on my behalf.”

Harry’s eyes are coloured with need now.

“I just want you to be okay Lou. I want you to release this unnecessary burden you’re carrying.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position and then returns the favour, pushing his fingers through Louis’ fringe which makes his eyelashes flutter, “when you see a masterpiece wasting away before your eyes, you do anything you can to see it preserved.”

Louis’ breath hitches and he looks up at Harry with wonder. So much shock. As if no one could possibly think so much of him.

“Harry…I think...” Louis stutters, clearly caught off guard.

Harry decides to save him, smiling beatifically down at him as he cuts off his attempt.

“So what’s your favourite colour Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis’ answering smile is like the slow drip of morphine down an IV and much like the drug, it numbs everything except Harry’s heart, which beats double time in response.

“Red.”

“Why-“

“Not just red,” Louis interrupts with a wide eyed look, holding up a finger that Harry would rather like to nibble on just to punish Louis for his sass; for his dramatics, “Bright red. Like fire engine red.”

“So….the devil’s colour,” Harry muses, amusement in the set of his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes but he’s smiling anyway.

“Fine…well what’s yours?”

“Blue,” Harry says without thinking, “Azure or maybe…cerulean,” then he stutters as Louis’ eyes find his and he registers their changing colour in the muted light, “or just…t…teal.”

Louis cocks his head to one side, studying Harry, his smile curious.

“Issues with that question Styles?” He says, his tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip and damn that tongue to the fiery pits of hell, “I mean, sounds like you and teal have got real issues.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, suddenly thoughtful, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t work them out.”

Louis’ eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head with disbelief.

“Oddball isn’t a strong enough term to describe what you are Harry Styles. It’s like someone plucked you from a different planet and brought you here.”

“Like Superman,” Harry beams, “only…I don’t wear glasses.”

“I do,” Louis says, something flickering in his expression, the seeds of an idea perhaps.

“I’ve never seen you wear them,” Harry says accusingly, eyes narrowed.

Louis just cracks a grin.

“And I’ve never seen you wear a dress love but I’m sure there’s photographic evidence somewhere. A picture of you wearing your mum’s bra or something,” Louis teases.

Harry’s cheeks fill with colour and Louis notices immediately, his head falling back to expose the clean line of his throat as his butterscotch laugh spills out into the tent.

“There is a photo of it, isn’t there?” Louis demands between laughs.

“No…I…of course I haven’t-“Harry tries but his speech cuts off as Louis sits up now and crawls across the space between them.

He straddles Harry’s lap so damn provocatively, that Harry near forgets that Louis’ trying to get something out of him. Harry’s hands clasp the sides of Louis’ bare waist, reaching around to cover almost the entire width of Louis’ lower back. Louis’ eyes darken momentarily but then he just smirks as if he’s already won.

“Harry, is there or is there not, a photo of you wearing your mother’s bra?” Louis demands, reaching out to clutch Harry’s shoulders to stop himself from sliding too deeply into Harry’s lap.

Don’t pull him down onto your cock. Don’t pull him down onto your cock, Harry has to chant just to restrain himself.

“There is,” Harry sighs, hanging his head in defeat but Louis’ hands cup his neck, forcing his head up.

“And now I feel like I know you Harry Styles,” Louis says with mirth, eyes scanning Harry’s for a moment before he slides backward onto his sleeping bag.

“Well that’s no fair,” Harry frowns, “now you have to tell me something embarrassing so we’re even.”

“You know about boo bear,” Louis grumbles, “I think we’re even.”

Harry shakes his head.

“Nope, that is too minor compared to mine. Besides, it’s not embarrassing, it’s just cute.”

Louis’ forehead creases

“Fine but promise you won’t laugh,” Louis says, pointing a threatening finger Harry’s way.

“Promise.”

Louis heaves out a sigh and then reaches backward, his muscles stretching with him and making Harry’s mouth water. Louis flicks through the photos on his phone for a few minutes and then spins it around for Harry to see, flicking his fringe to the side nervously. Harry doesn’t laugh though.

Louis looks about fourteen and he’s dressed in a red soccer uniform that fits him perfectly with long white socks and proper footie boots. He looks beautiful. Yes, Harry sees why Louis might think it’s embarrassing. His hair is rather bowl shaped and Bieber-like but it only inspires a kind of fondness for the once young, innocent Louis, Harry never knew. And beside him is a slightly taller boy with dark black hair and deep brown eyes that look entirely too strained.

“Elliot,” Harry breathes his recognition.

“Yep,” Louis says, concealing an emotional reaction, Harry’s sure.

“He’s beautiful,” Harry murmurs, “just like you.”

“Harry.”

His name is a choked up gasp in Louis’ mouth and he looks up, startled to find Louis’ eyes filling with tears.

“Oh Lou, no,” Harry says mournfully, bringing his hands up to cradle Louis’ cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to-“

“You didn’t,” Louis sniffs, blinking back tears and pulling Harry’s hands away from his face, “you didn’t do anything wrong Harry.”

Louis’ hands slide up his arms to encircle his biceps and they sit just like that for a few minutes, Louis eyes shining bright with emotion and Harry memorising it all, every quirk of Louis’ lips and every slide of his eyes along Harry’s own. Harry wants to absorb every ounce of feeling that flows between them in this moment.

“We should really eat,” Louis says eventually.

“You actually want to eat?” Harry asks, frozen in place with shock.

Louis leans up on his knees and then over Harry as he wraps a palm around his cheek.

“If I don’t eat and gain some weight…how else will I get you to stop staring at me like that love?”

Harry’s eyes jump from Louis abdominals to his eyes in shock. Louis smirks with eyes that feel like a glass of scotch in Harry’s mouth, burning him all the way down his throat to the pit of his stomach. Louis points to his face exaggeratedly, his perfectly white teeth breaking his lips.

“Eyes up here Styles.”

Harry’s loud, shallow breaths seem to fill the air of the tent. Louis cups Harry’s shoulder now and then leans forward, dragging his mouth across Harry’s cheek without touching, just breathing hotly against the skin. He pauses at Harry’s ear.

“Oh and just so you know,” he whispers breathily, “if you want to be Superman, I’ll be your kryptonite.”

Harry’s still trying to process this, eyes shut too tight when the hand leaves his shoulder and he hears the zip being dragged down. Good lord, he’s shuddering all over, Louis is absolutely his kryptonite and a bloody tease. Why is he doing this? He wanted to simplify things so why is jumbling them all up again? Why won’t Harry’s insides chill?

…..

The day only gets worse from there. Or better depending on which part of Harry’s body is doing the talking. Louis glides into the centre in the kind of jeans even Harry doesn’t own, the kind that stretch and pull extremely tight over your bum if you’ve got one and Louis has most certainly got one. He’s also wearing his jacket zipped up all the way to the top. Harry doesn’t realise why until he stops short of sitting down next to Niall on the bench, standing there until all the boys look up at him.

“Hey Louis,” Liam says with a kindly smile.

“You going to sit down mate?” Niall asks with an arched eyebrow.

“Actually I thought I’d introduce myself first,” Louis says with a casual twist of a smile.

“Louis man, we know who you are,” Zayn says, his face as pinched with confusion as everybody else’s aside from Louis.

“Actually you don’t. I have a secret identity,” Louis sounds very solemn as he speaks with his head down, fiddling with the metal zipper.

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry finds himself asking, throat constricted with worry.

Louis nods slowly and then suddenly his head pops up, the zipper comes down and he reveals a cobalt blue shirt with the superman sign in the centre.

“IT’S SUPERMAAAAAN,” he yells, the sound carrying out across the whole centre.

A sea of faces turns toward him. Harry’s eyes bug out. He can scarcely believe that this is the same boy who used to use post it notes to speak to him. The room dissolves into laughter and Louis collapses into his seat, a self-satisfied grin stretching across his face. Harry leans around the back of Niall, raising an eyebrow at Louis who glows all over.

“Superman?” Harry says with disbelief, “That’s…interesting.”

“Harold,” Louis says and there’s something in his tone, fondness and exasperation and amusement all in one.

“Yeah Lou?”

Louis reaches across Niall to swipe his thumb across the corner of Harry’s mouth and then pulls back with fireworks going off in his eyes. Fitting, since there’s fireworks going off inside Harry too.

“You had some milk there.”

Harry just turns back to his cereal, his cheeks twitching with the urge to smile but he manages to control it. He’s not going to smile just because Louis touched him.  Not just because Louis’ wearing a superman shirt after their little conversation this morning. He’s stronger than that.

……

Harry’s not strong enough for this though. He’s sure his pupils are completely dilated and his veins have expanded too, taut like the strings of a guitar being tuned and tightened. Louis is dancing. In his superman ensemble. With square glasses that have wide black rims. Harry thinks he just might chew through his bottom lip at the rate he’s going.

It’s early evening now, the sun just beginning to set, leaving a purplish-pink glow with its departure.  The kids are being watched by Paul in the centre as they enjoy How to Train a Dragon on the projector that Harry had failed to notice until he saw it being pulled down in preparation for tonight. Louis had accompanied the rest of the mediators to a bonfire where he proceeded to dazzle everyone with his general wise cracks and loud accounts of his former prankster status at school a few years back. Even Nathan cracked a laugh, trying to cover it with a loud, hacking and obviously fake cough, when Louis admitted he’d once exchanged his teacher’s copy of the play they’d been studying with one typed entirely backwards. He had persuaded the class to insist that all theirs were typed backwards too.

Harry had watched with fascination as Louis’ soul finally poured out through his open mouth and really he was quite loud, enchanting a horde of boys/men that are older than him with words spun like sugar and spice. Sweet in tone but biting in humour and wit. Harry felt something like pride as Niall declared ‘Tommo’, the ‘funniest lad’ he’s met and half the crowd nodded and raised their drinks in agreement. However the peaceful sense of pride Harry felt was interrupted half an hour ago when Louis disappeared with Niall and came back with an Ipod dock and his glasses, looking for all intents and purposes, like he was just begging to be touched.

However Louis ignored him from the offset, dragging guys into the circle around the bonfire and dancing up on them, much to Harry’s displeasure, as the music boomed around them. Some of the guys blushed and looked uncomfortable but Louis’ energy was so explosive, so contagious that they merely began to laugh as they put some space between themselves and Louis.

Others looked like they might even be enjoying it a little too much, eyes glued to Louis’ bum as he swung his hips and brushed up against them teasingly. Harry did a superb job of imprinting his teeth on his tongue as he bit down hard watching. Blood filled his mouth and yet nothing tasted as acrid and sour as Louis’ refusal to even glance his way, where he hung on the fringes of the circle, donned in a flowery, pink shirt and light grey jeans.

“Louis,” Niall shouts from across the fire, a manic grin on his face that Harry doesn’t trust one iota, “show us yeh best pulling move.”

Niall’s eyes lock with Harry’s now and Harry’s eyes transform from liquid emerald to molten rock with lava flowing between. Niall’s grin just notches up further as he turns to watch Louis. Louis’ glowing too, his smile lighting up his face so spectacularly that Harry’s already breathless.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for this mate,” Louis jokes, his lips stretched so wide and his teeth so white, they almost give off their own light, “I might accidentally seduce you.”

Niall chortles, eyes flying back to Harry who glares. What? It’s not without provocation. Then, Louis really does Harry in. He pulls his arms to his sides and flexes his hips forward in a sharp thrust, his tight jeans pressing obscenely against the outline of his cock that Harry can easily see through his pants and stretching tight over his pert arse at the same time.

The glasses. The aggressive pump of his hips that Harry can’t help visualising in another context. The jeans. The wicked grin on his face as Niall doubles over laughing. It’s all too much. Harry’s standing before him in an instant, breathing hot and heavy as he glares. Niall takes one look at his face, yells out an amused “you’re on your own Tommo” and then disappears into one of the conversational circles behind him.

Louis looks up at him, a sly smile painting his lips.

“Problem?”

“What are you doing?” Harry growls, pressing so close that their hips brush, waves of escalating heat rolling up and down his body as it starts to react to their proximity.

“It’s this unique form of entertainment called dancing,” Louis says archly.

The bloody cheek. Harry grips Louis’ hip possessively and then swings his own so their bodies graze against one another. Louis gasps a little and Harry feels the glow of triumph.

“That’s dancing,” Harry says crossly, “that….that….what you did…”

Harry’s losing steam. He’s distracted by the way Louis’ cupping his waist now, bringing their bodies together as he swings his hips provocatively.

“The thrusting?” Louis offers, twinkling all over.

“Yes, enough of that. It’s inappropriate. And these,” Harry plucks the glasses off Louis’ face and folds them up violently, “what are you doing with these?”

“Clark Kent,” Louis pushes up on the balls of his feet, gently cupping Harry’s shoulder as he whispers in his ear, “I have a thing for superman you see.”

Harry hears Louis’ earlier words echo in his mind. _If you want to be superman…_

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Harry’s crushing Louis to him, a hand pressed low on his back as he sneaks his hand around and deposits the glasses in the back pocket of his jeans. He leaves his hand there, bending his fingers around the pefect curve of what could quiet possibly be a better arse than Beyonce’s.

“You’re kind of feeling me up Harry,” Louis says huskily in his ear, “and I didn’t know manhandling was in the job description.”

Harry wrenches himself away and he has to swallow down the heat scorching its way up from his dick to his chest and then all the way up his throat as Louis’ heavy lidded eyes consider him, melting him where he stands. What is going on? Is Louis really trying to seduce him? Is that all he wants? Harry is furious now.

“You’re a great tease,” Harry says coldly, leaning over Louis who suddenly looks very small, his mouth drooping down, “but when I let you go, I meant it. You didn’t want somebody to change you? Fine. But don’t think you can just use me to get off. I’m not that easy.”

Harry whips around and begins to stalk away but Louis’ hand clutches at his and pulls until he turns back around.

“What?” He snaps.

Louis looks an awful lot like a kid who just dropped his ice cream. It baffles Harry.

“Harry,” he says, a kind of desperate edge to his voice, “I don’t think you understand. I…I just…please just bear with me. You said you could wait for me, that you’d be patient.”

“Louis,” Harry sighs, defeated, “I said those things because I thought that if I believed in you, if I supported you, it would help…but when I tried, when I tried to free you, you didn’t want it. If you don’t want to feel that way, you simply won’t. It’s clear to me, you’ve made it clear to me,” Harry’s breath is laboured and Louis tenses, seemingly waiting for the final word, “that you simply can’t feel anything more for me than physical need. And I’m okay with that, I am but I can’t….I can’t do that with you.”

Louis drops his hand like he’s been burned and his expression is so deflated, Harry almost wants to comfort but he can’t. He can’t because Louis doesn’t want to be comforted by anyone, least of all Harry. Harry points backward in the direction of the tents.

“I’m just going to…”

“Yeah,” Louis says quickly, “I think you should.”

So Harry walks slowly away feeling burned in all kinds of ways. It’s like there’s this mess inside him that he doesn’t know how to reassemble into working parts. It’s reflected in Louis. Louis is a disaster headed straight for him but Harry’s lost in the beauty of it. Not for the first time, Harry wonders if there is any resisting the corrosive hurricane that is Louis Tomlinson because truth be told, as much as it will hurt, Harry feels deep down that he wants any part of Louis he can have. He’s telling Louis all or nothing but inside, he’s a jangled up mess of need that doesn’t care what’s what as long as it’s Louis. Just as long as it’s plush, pink lips and fingers that burn through fabric, igniting the fire that dances along his insides, quietly wreaking havoc.

_Day Twenty One_

When Harry wakes, there’s something on his chest. A pixie like creature with wide blue eyes and smiling lips. The pixie splays its hands over his chest and grins excitedly. Harry’s whole face creases up confusedly. Didn’t they just have a fight last night?

“Haz,” Louis whines with pleading blue eyes, “you have to get up. I’m taking you somewhere today.”

Harry can’t think with Louis sitting atop him like this. He pulls himself up into a half-sitting position, basically doing a crunch and then quite quickly and deftly grasps Louis by the waist and deposits him onto his sleeping bag. Louis makes a ‘harrumph’ sound and pouts grumpily. It’s not that cute.  It’s not like he’s cuter than a puppy. His scrunched up nose and disgruntled tiny mouth does not make him cuter than a puppy, Harry assures himself.

“What on earth are you on about?” He finally asks, gazing at Louis openly now.

Louis’ wearing cobalt blue jeans with a puffy black ski jacket and his hair is crested on his head today, looking soft to the touch as always.

“Well…I know yesterday things got a bit…heated,” Louis’ shifts his glance nervously across Harry’s face and Harry knows he’s referring to their argument but all Harry can think about is the heat in his veins at the sight of the other lad, “and I was hoping I could make it up to you. The way I was acting was silly. And anyway I begged Paul until he finally caved and said I could do whatever I want with you.”

Harry’s eyebrows jump up at this and Louis chuckles.

“Not like that. I’m just going to take you to one of my favourite places. You’ll love it, promise.”

Harry feels unsure and Louis can obviously tell as he picks one of Harry’s large hands up and cradles it in the both of his.

“Pleeeeease Harry,” he begs, squeezing Harry’s fingers from both sides.

Harry rolls his eyes. The sad thing is that he’s not rolling his eyes at Louis, he’s rolling his eyes at his own susceptibility to Louis’ persuasion.

“Fine,” he sighs.

At this, Louis practically jumps into his lap, hugging him close. Harry closes his eyes to refrain from pulling him in tighter, instead removing him just as before, like he weighs no more than a feather.

“Sorry,” Louis says….with an entirely unapologetic grin.

Harry just shakes his head exasperatedly and reaches for his toiletries.

…..

Harry sits down where Louis directs, eyes still firmly shut. Louis’ hands slip over his jean clad legs and then he feels the chunky, heavy shoes slide onto his feet at Louis’ will. He’s still remarkably confused.

“Where are we?” Harry asks for the millionth time.

There’s a smile in Louis’ voice when he answers.

“Give me your hand Harold and then stand up, very slowly and carefully. And keep your eyes closed.”

So Harry lets Louis’ fingers grasp his own but when he tries to stand up, one of his feet skids out and as he gasps his surprise, arms come around his waist, holding him in place. His eyes flash open and then down to his feet. Ice skates. Louis’ got some on too. Harry glances around and sees the ice rink beside them lit up very dimly with soft white light and completely deserted. Louis’ still holding him in place but as Harry adjusts to the skates, he loosens his hold.

“An ice skating rink?” Harry asks with scepticism, forgetting this was supposed to be a nice gesture.

However, Louis’ smile just opens up wider upon his face.

“The Doncaster Dome, to be exact. The place I spent a huge part of my childhood and even…” Louis falters slightly before continuing, “And even after Elliot…I used to just come here, you know, just to breathe. To be by myself. It’s closed every second Sunday you see but I know the owner, Alberto. He always lets me in….opened it up for us today…because I asked.”

“You mean there’s no one else here?” Harry says with a certain amount of wonder, spinning around in a careful circle to confirm that this is in fact true.

“No one but you and me babe,” Louis says with a wink.

Harry laughs and then flashes Louis a softer smile.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to bring me here. To this place that’s so special to you.”

“I did,” Louis knocks his red skates together like Dorothy, fixating on them instead of Harry’s searching look, “because I fucked up.”

“Louis, it’s-“

“Don’t say it’s fine,” Louis says impatiently, his mouth sewn tightly together, “I should never have been such a tease. Not when all you’ve done is try to help me, not when that’s all you want. I’m sorry Harry.”

Harry’s kind of tired of the morose atmosphere. He tugs on Louis’ wrists, forcing Louis to skate along the ground until their bodies come into contact.

“Lou,” he says brightly.

Louis’ eyebrows bunch up, confused but he humours Harry.

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to stand here all day or are you going to teach me how to skate?”

Louis’ eyes go wide.

“Teach you? You don’t know how?”

“Did the way I so gracefully stood up before fool you?” Harry asks, a sarcastic implication in his voice, “did my scar that I showed you from my first and only attempt not register?”

Louis’ smile melts across his face.

“I thought that was just your usual clumsiness. You’re like a new born calf that hasn’t worked out how to use its legs yet,” Louis teases, poking Harry in the side.

Harry catches Louis’ finger, and tucks it back into his fist, patting his hand back into place by his side.

“Excuse me, Mr-I-don’t-know-how-to-hit-a-target,” Harry retorts, dimples twitching.

“At least I can play footie half decently.”

“I can juggle balls!” Harry bursts out.

“I bet you can.”

They both stare at each other for a moment before doubling over with laughter.

“Okay, baby cow….let us take to the ice,” Louis instructs, holding out a hand for Harry to take.

Harry glares at him as he does so.

“That’s not a very flattering nickname.”

“How about…” Louis pauses, narrowing his eyes with thought as he turns to slide backwards onto the ice, “ice princess?”

Harry’s eyes light up like Broadway.

“I should have known you’d like that one. You’re such an odd character,” Louis complains but Harry can see the flecks of humour in his eyes, “I’ll have to think of something else.”

Harry pouts, tilting his head at Louis.

“Please boo bear, let me be an ice princess.”

Louis’ eyes sharpen at the mention of his nickname and he reels Harry in across the ice quick and hard, their chests banging together. He only stops Harry from falling at the last moment, scrunching his hand in the back of Harry’s blue fitted shirt to stop him slipping away.

“Now Styles,” Louis says, looking up at Harry and taking on a superior, authoritative tone, “what have we learned from this exercise?”

Harry draws his bottom lip through his teeth, considering and then let’s loose with a cheeky grin, drawing Louis’ arms behind him as he speaks, so as to prevent retaliation.

“That boo bear’s got a bad temper.”

Louis practically snarls which rips a laugh out of Harry’s chest.

“Perfect demonstration,” Harry says, still chortling.

Louis just rolls his eyes, jangling his arms as he waits for Harry to release him.

“Okay Harold,” Louis announces now, planting his newly freed hands on Harry’s shoulders, “you’re lucky I’m a very understanding instructor otherwise you’d be on your arse right now. Time to skate.”

Harry crosses his arms petulantly.

“I don’t want to.”

Okay, the truth is he’s rather scared he will indeed, end up on his ass, with or without Louis sending him there. He certainly does not feel safe on this precarious, slippery surface. Louis’ smile is extra fond as he reaches out and uncrosses Harry’s arms.

“I promise I won’t let you fall Harry,” he says, hands sliding down Harry’s arms to grip his hands, “just let me pull you along for a bit.”

Harry nods, albeit reluctantly and Louis starts to move, their feet tracing the same tracks as they skate backward across the ice. After a few metres of this, Louis lets go of just one of Harry’s hands and then glides to his side.

“Like this now,” he says encouragingly, softly, as though Harry were some breakable piece of china.

Harry rolls his eyes even as he tightens his grip on Louis’ hand.

“I’m not a child. I’m perfectly capable of-“Harry’s foot slips out too far and his legs start to slide out in different directions, “Louis, help!”

Louis hauls Harry back up from where he’s stretched far too wide just a few centimetres above the ice and once up, secures an arm around his waist. He chuckles and then squeezes Harry’s waist, nosing at his curls to get to his ear.

“You right there my clumsy, little calf?” He whispers.

It’s ridiculous really. Louis’ the little one. Harry’s knees only go partially week at the use of the operative ‘my.’

“Fine,” Harry says gruffly and then a beat later…”just don’t let go.”

Louis goes weirdly silent at this but he doesn’t release his hold. They begin to circle the rink, their feet gliding close together as Louis’ arm presses gently against his side.

“’s not so bad, is it?” Louis asks after a couple of laps, smiling up at Harry.

“No,” Harry lets his eyes travel across Louis’ face, their eyes connecting as the levity of what he’s really saying gets through, “it’s not so bad.”           

“Okay, now it’s time for the grand finale,” Louis says suddenly, flourishing his phone.

“What grand finale?” Harry asks with suspicion.

“Just wait here.”

Louis skates off the ice quick as lightning and Harry can only stare after him, realising just how much he’s been slowing him down and just how beautiful he looks when he’s not dragging someone else around. A few minutes later, music fills the rink and the lights dim even further so that there’s only a circle of light in the centre where Harry waits. The song is wicked game. Harry’s eyes flicker shut. He hears the sound of Louis’ skates on the ice and then there are arms around him. His eyes flutter open.

“Louis,” Harry says warningly, even as Louis pulls their now conjoined hands up in the air and rests the other hand on his hip, gripping tightly.

“Dance with me Harold,” Louis says and his eyes suck all the light from above, his whole face bathed in an unearthly glow.

“This is…I mean…really?”

Louis just smiles serenely and brings Harry’s hand across to his waist, making sure to squeeze Harry’s fingers around the flawless curve before returning his hand to Harry’s hip.

“Really,” he breathes.

Harry nods then, quite possibly hypnotised and then their feet start to move. They’re gliding over the ice, Louis pulling him close and breathing the lyrics in amongst his curls like a promise.

_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_

_It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you_

Louis rocks his hips from side to side and Harry follows his lead, not even sure he’s even control of his body anymore. Then Louis whispers in his ear once more.

“Up for it Harold?” He says, a musicality to his voice that Harry can’t describe, like the flutter of a bird’s wings as it takes off for the first time.

Harry doesn’t know what Louis’ talking about or why he’s dancing close with a boy he can’t have, a boy he won’t let himself have but the moment overcomes him and he drops his head, brushing it along Louis’ hair.

“Up for it,” his voice rumbles deeply.

Then Louis pushes his side, swinging him out so fast that Harry goes spinning for what feels like an eternity, his heart missing a beat as he wonders if he’ll just spin out forever. He can’t help but think it’s the perfect metaphor for falling for Louis Tomlinson. Dizzying, terrifying and exhilarating all at once. A road map ear marked for disaster and yet just when Harry thinks he’s about to lose his footing, Louis tugs hard on his hand and reels him back in. His hand comes around to rest, palm open on the small of Harry’s back as he rocks them both gently from side to side.

“I’ve got you,” Louis whispers, “you’re not the only one with a hero complex.”

Harry draws back from the embrace with a confused look.

“Hero complex?”

Louis’ smile is mischievous as he reaches up and twines a curl round his finger.

“Hi,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice, “I’m Harry Styles and I just want to save the whole damn world.”

Harry’s dimples feel set in stone as he threads his own fingers through Louis’ soft hair. What? Louis started it.

“Did you ever think,” Harry suggests, mouth twisting with a deeply set smile, “that maybe I’m not so concerned with saving the rest of the world. Maybe I’m only really concerned with saving you.”

Louis grips Harry’s cheeks in his hands now and he looks a little lost, a little hazed like the fog of an early winter morning just entered his usually clear blue eyes.

“And what if I can’t be saved? What if I don’t want to be?”

Harry brings his hands up and brushes them across the backs Louis’ wrists, eyes too intent to be ignored. However Louis looks more focused anyway. As if he might be depending on Harry right now in this moment.

“Then maybe you don’t need saving,” Harry whispers, his own realisations rising up like pieces of a fragmented past finally being arranged in the right order, “maybe you just need to believe that it’s possible, that you deserve it. Maybe all you need to believe is that if you were truly lost, if there were nothing but broken pieces, it would be okay to put them back together. It would be okay to let light shine through the cracks.”

Louis pulls Harry in, his arms up around Harry’s neck, his head nestled against his neck as he speaks.

“You just pull it out of the bag every time Harry Styles.”

_Day Twenty Two_

“I think I’m going mad,” Harry says, banging his head immediately against the table as he sits down.

The boys all give him varying looks of pity. Okay, so Liam’s the only one who looks pitying. Zayn and Niall both look like they’re about to dissolve into laughter.

“Yeah we know,” Niall says with a grin.

“How?” Harry asks, turning to him with confusion.

“Oh I dunno,” Zayn butts in, pretending to scratch his chin with thought, “maybe it’s because you spent the entirety of dinner last night staring at him.”

Harry’s about to protest but Niall cuts him off.

“It’s okay Haz, I’m no gay man but the boy does deep throat a hot dog better than most,” Niall says, waving his fork in the air and spraying bread crumbs from his French toast all over the table.

Harry splutters, choking on his cereal.

“Excuse me, I was not looking at…that,” he finishes awkwardly.

Even Liam flashes him a disbelieving look now.

“What?” Harry says defensively, “he could have choked. I was just being… protective.”

The look in Zayn’s eyes is deadly as he leans forward with a smirk.

“Making sure he could swallow ay?” He winks at Harry.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t,” Harry stutters, “What Louis does with his mouth is none of my concern.”

Of course that’s when Louis appears between Zayn and Liam and they all jump, Harry probably the highest as Louis looks them all over with an amused grin, his hair all messy, his body still swaddled in his oversized pyjamas.

“Thought I heard my name. Talking about me lads? I know I’m fabulous but please, if you’re going to share comments about how sexy I am, please make sure I’m at least present.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and nudges him with his elbow as Louis sits, placing his plate overflowing with fried food on the edge of the table. He’s actually giving Niall a run for his money this morning and Harry approves wholeheartedly. He flashes him a thumbs up and Louis shakes his head, trying to look like he thinks it’s uncool. However his pursed lips that won’t quite stay stationery say otherwise.

“If I’d known you were this obnoxious, I probably wouldn’t have challenged Harry to get you to speak,” Zayn complains jokingly.

Louis head flies up at this and he looks directly at Harry, even while asking Zayn.

“You challenged him?”

“There was a bet,” Liam says before Zayn can open his mouth, “that Harry couldn’t get you to speak or open up. Niall backed Harry and Zayn didn’t. But before you go thinking Harry’s a prat, Harry thought it was brutish of them to reduce it to a game. You were his challenge yes….but only because he wanted you to be…only because he really wanted to help.”

Louis’ expression relaxes and he sends a soft, private smile Harry’s way.

“Should have known,” he mutters, shaking his head as he tucks into his breakfast again.

“It’s true Tommo,” Niall practically bellows, clutching Harry’s shoulder as he leans forward, Harry flinching at the Irishman’s…well…Irish-ness, “Haz has been obsessed with you from the beginning.”

Harry basically spits out his breakfast in his bowl at this, a cough wracking his body as he begins to choke. When he finally composes himself enough to send a hateful look Niall’s way and study the rest of the table, he finds Louis glowing with the light of a thousand suns.

“That’s my cue,” Harry announces, standing up with gusto.

“Harry,” Niall says, eyeing him with puzzlement, “you’ve barely eaten half your cereal.”

Louis waggles a disapproving finger up at him.

“And you know just how important breakfast is don’t you Harold?” He patronises.

Harry doesn’t respond to either of them, just lets out an angry puff of air, much to their amusement and then stalks away, the veins in his forehead throbbing with annoyance. For Niall. Funny how every time Louis taunts him it feels more like an endearment than anything. Harry shakes the weirdness of that thought off.

….

“Harry, please,” Paul begs, grabbing Harry’s shoulders and jostling him slightly.

“I don’t even have anything prepared. Surely the guy that was supposed to do the talk could just get someone else to give it?”

“No, the rest of the speakers are all on holidays. I booked him special. C’mon Harry, don’t let the kids down. I thought you’d want to help.”

Harry knows Paul is manipulating him and that if he says yes, he’s probably going to make an absolute fool of himself in front of everybody, including Louis, whose respect he’s worked so hard to earn. However he can’t resist. This is what he wants to do with his life after all. This is the kind of cause he’s interested in.

“Fine,” he sighs his defeat.

That’s how he ends up at the front of the centre at 2 in the afternoon, standing with a microphone in hand and shifting his weight nervously as he waits for everybody to quieten down and for Louis to stop staring at him so intensely. Only, the latter does not occur, as he takes a nervous step forward and begins to speak.

“Okay so Paul’s asked me to give you guys this speech. For some of you, it might be a bit confusing,” Harry directs his gaze to some of the younger children, “but feel free to ask me any questions you have later and if you hold on to the end, I’m actually going to sing a song so hopefully you’ll like that part. For the rest of you, this talk is either going to come across as something of value or something a bit cheesy, a bit too planned out. Well, all I’ll say on that is that this was most definitely not planned out.”

There’s a small laugh from Harry’s circle of friends and he flashes them an appreciative smile before continuing, walking slowly along the length of the centre and away from Louis’ eyes as he speaks.

“So…basically what we wanted to talk to you about today is asking for help. Now, asking for help from a parent or a teacher or even your friend can be a bit like when you guys first started school or when you have a bad dream and you wake up confused. At first, it’s unfamiliar and scary. You have to trust the people around you to look after you and sometimes when we’re growing up, we see people around us who are big and strong and we think we have to be big and strong too. But you know what, I want to tell you a secret,” Harry pauses dramatically and then scans his eyes across the crowd, “that’s a lie.”

“If you look at some of your mediators,” Harry uses his hands to gesture to the left half of the room which houses only mediators barring Louis who’s practically tucked into Niall’s side, “you’ll see a bunch of big, strong lads and let me tell you…in your life, a lot of people are going to tell you that boys eat a lot of meat and play their sports and they handle everything on their own and that makes them big and strong. But you know what I think makes someone big and strong…the moments that they admit that they might be having a problem.

“Like when my friends come to me and tell me that they don’t know if what they’re feeling is okay or they feel sad and they just want to tell me about it, I think a lot more of them because they did that. So when you say to your mum or you dad or a teacher, or anybody you trust, that you don’t feel good or you tell them something personal that’s happening inside,” Harry beats his chest emphatically, “you’re really showing them how strong you are. And more than that, it’s okay not to be strong the way people think you should be. I don’t think being a boy means being good at sports because I’m terrible,” Harry hears Louis’ chortle all the way from the front, “or that it means you have to act a certain way or be tougher on the outside.”

Harry walks back the opposite way now, in Louis’ direction, eyes focusing in on him now with laser precision and when Louis notices, he wraps a hand around his neck, clearly nervous under Harry’s gaze.

“The most beautiful things in this world, well I think… maybe sometimes they’re the most broken,” Louis’ hand falls from his neck…or flops might be a more accurate word, “and what I mean by that is….sometimes a person can be having a tough time and it can be tough on somebody else who is trying to help them but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. It doesn’t mean that person is wrong for speaking up or that the other is wrong for wanting to help. Sometimes as a mediator, I think we have this question of whether we can help, whether it’s possible to change someone…” Harry watches as Louis breaks their stare, eyes drifting to the tabletop, “to change their path but I think when someone reaches out for you…even when they’re scared or they change their mind or they do it without meaning to, perhaps unwillingly, the least you can do is help them. And when you try…when they see you trying…maybe that’s what matters.”

Harry takes a deep breath now, collecting his thoughts, collecting himself.

“Which is why admitting when you’re not feeling big and strong is okay. It’s good. That’s why all of us here, your mediators and Paul, all want you to be honest with us as much as you can and to tell us how you’re feeling. That concludes my talk for you guys today and now to finish…” Harry pauses, waiting until Louis looks up before continuing, “I want to dedicate a song to somebody who might in fact be the strongest person I know, without knowing it. This is beautiful disaster by Kelly Clarkson.”  


_“He drowns in his dreams_  
an exquisite extreme I know  
He's as damned as he seems  
and more heaven than a heart could hold”

Harry’s eyes flicker shut as the emotions of the song overwhelm him and he finds himself gripping the microphone stand that’s before him in the centre of the room, swinging it forward slightly as the husky need in his voice rings out over the silence of the crowd.

 _“And if I try to save him_  
my whole world would cave in  
It just ain't right  
Lord, it just ain't right

 __  
Oh and I don't know  
I don't know what he's after  
But he's so beautiful  
He’s such a beautiful disaster  
And if I could hold on  
Through the tears and the laughter  
Lord, would it be beautiful  
Or just a beautiful disaster?”

Harry’s eyes finally open now and find Louis immediately who might quite possible be trembling. It’s hard to tell. His blue eyes are magnetising though and Harry watches as the lyrics edged in hurt and adoration and all things both sweet and bitter transverse the space between them. They seem to hit Louis right in the chest and Harry watches as he pulls his knees up onto the seat, wrapping his arms around them, looking so damn vulnerable.

 _He's magic and myth_  
as strong as what I believe  
a tragedy with  
more damage than a soul should see

_But do I try to change him?  
So hard not to blame him_

__  
Hold me tight  
Baby, hold me tight

Harry’s begging with Louis now, leaning the microphone stand his way as his eyes bleed like water colour paints, leaking sea green emotion all over the spotless floor. Dirtying up the room with everything inside his chest.

  
_Oh and I don't know_  
I don't know what he's after  
But he's so beautiful  
He’s such a beautiful disaster  
And if I could hold on  
Through the tears and the laughter  
Would it be beautiful  
Or just a beautiful disaster?

 _I'm longing for love and the logical_  
but he's only happy hysterical  
I'm searching for some kind of miracle  
Waited so long  
I’ve waited so long

Harry lowers his voice to a soft, silky whisper. So soft that everybody leans closer to hear, completely hypnotised.

 _He's soft to the touch_  
But frayed at the ends he breaks  
He's never enough

Harry can see the way Louis breath stops, his chest halting in its exaggerated movements and then he continues, “ _and still he’s more than I can take_.” It’s like there’s something reverberating in Louis’ eyes as they pin Harry to that spot, opening him up, thanking him again and again. Undressing his soul completely. So overwhelmed. They’re both so overwhelmed by this moment, whatever it is, unfolding between them.

 _Oh and I don't know_  
I don't know what he's after  
But he's so beautiful  
He’s such a beautiful disaster  
and if I could hold on  
through the tears and the laughter  
Would it be beautiful  
or just a beautiful disaster

 _He's beautiful_  
Lord he’s so beautiful  
He’s beautiful

When Harry’s finished, everybody is on their feet and rapturous applause echoes all around. Harry’s eyes land on Louis who is clapping just as enthusiastically as everybody else. His feet carry him over there without a conscious decision. As soon as he reaches the table, Louis throws his arms around him and then he’s whispering in Harry’s ear, his voice wobbling just slightly.

“That was incredible. I don’t even know…I don’t know if that was about….but Harry, you’re incredible.”

When Harry pulls away, there’s three sets of wide eyes on him and Louis.

“Why are you staring at us?”

Harry frowns.

“If you don’t know, we can’t help you,” Zayn says cryptically.

Niall and Liam nod their agreement. Harry rolls his eyes and then Louis squeezes his bicep reassuringly.

“Don’t worry curly calf, we probably don’t want to know anyway.”

Niall’s eyes fill with mirth at this and he braces himself on Louis’ shoulder as he begins to laugh.

“Did you just call him curly calf? What’s that about?”

Louis opens his mouth to reply but Harry silences him with a look, leaning around him to smile cruelly at Niall.

“If you don’t know, we can’t help you.”

Louis cracks up at this, eyes crinkled in Harry’s direction and it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it as Louis curls an arm around his waist and looks up at him with some degree of pride.

“What Harry said.”

…..

Harry’s been wriggling around in his sleeping bag for the last half an hour having left the bonfire early. Louis had been busy showing Niall some simple pranks much to Niall’s delight and Harry had watched for a while with amusement before he’d finally decided he was being utterly pathetic and had departed for his tent. Yet now he’s restless and can’t stop thinking. He can’t stop thinking that he’s doing a terrible job of staying away, of just letting Louis be. He can’t stop thinking that Louis seems awfully happy for someone who thinks they should continue to suffer.

His thoughts are interrupted by the unzipping of the tent and then Louis climbs over him to his bed. Harry doesn’t let his eyes stray to his bum as he does so. He’s not perving. He’s much more evolved than that. Of course he is.

“You’re awake,” Louis says softly as Harry’s eyes catch his in the dark.

“I’m awake,” Harry confirms, turning to face Louis now, “what are you doing back? Surely you couldn’t have tired Niall out already?”

A ghost of a smile animates Louis’ lips.

“No,” he says, “I really couldn’t have…but you were gone.”

Harry’s eyebrows jump with surprise.

“So you came back? Why?”

Louis’ cheeks colour slightly and then his thumb is pressed into the dimple that’s not hidden in Harry’s pillow.

“’s not the same without you there,” he mumbles, “without you watching me.”

Harry feels mighty flustered by the fact that Louis notices. Louis knows the heat of his gaze and he likes it? What does this mean?

“How do you know I…” Harry coughs as his throat becomes awfully dry all of a sudden, “how do you know I watch you?”

Louis’ hand travels from his dimple up to the space around his eye, his fingers running gingerly across the skin.

“I feel these on me,” he says softly, “and…”

“And?” Harry prompts.

Louis bites his lip and then threads his fingers through Harry’s curls as he responds. Harry fights the urge to mewl.

“I watch too.”

Harry’s breath stutters and he thinks Louis hears it because his hand tightens in his curls.

“Louis,” Harry says warningly, his skin thrumming with energy.

Louis releases him.

“Don’t worry Harold. I’m not trying to take advantage,” Louis says bitterly.

Then he rolls away from Harry and Harry’s hands itch to pull him back but he doesn’t. However his eyes trace Louis’ back as he speaks.

“I’m sorry I can’t but I just…I don’t want you…not like that.”

…just like that, I don’t want you just like that, Harry’s brain corrects… but it’s too late.

“Got it,” Louis says coldly, “thanks for clearing that one up.”

“No, Louis I-“

“Goodnight Harry.”

Harry scrunches his fists and knocks them against his closed eyelids. How does everything get so messed up every time he’s around Louis? How does he lose himself in the chaos inside his heart? Suffice to say, Harry continues to squirm for hours until he finally tires himself out and falls into a fitful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has got a fair few songs in it so I decided to just make a playlist on youtube and I added the other ones I've mentioned previously to the end. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLR0slS5LPeUK_UwpZgwzcWHidDSHAvIEp  
> Bit nervous about this chapter, not sure if you guys will like it but hopefully you do :)   
> Xxx

_Day Twenty Three_

“Louis,” Harry whines with need, turning to mumble the sound into his pillow “Louis.”

Harry may have just been having a dream in which Louis walked away from him and wouldn’t turn back when Harry called. He may have unthinkingly let his despair trickle out his mouth as he awoke. Of course because Harry’s just that lucky, Louis is already awake and suddenly there’s a hand fluttering over the centre of his back, pressing down more firmly as Harry hums into the pillow.

“Harry?” Louis says questioningly.

Harry flips over quickly, suddenly coming to life and startling Louis whose neck is all trussed up in his burgundy scarf, his chest covered in a white shirt and denim jacket. His blue eyes pop and his chino-clad thighs collapse under him where he’d been kneeling over Harry.

“Sorry,” Harry winces, looking blearily up at Louis through his curtain of curls.

“I thought you were asleep,” Louis squeaks.

“I was,” Harry says, unhelpfully, “I woke up.”

Louis rolls his eyes but then his hand reaches out to lift Harry’s curls away from his eyes, brushing gently over his forehead as he does so. Harry sighs contentedly, all his self-control absent in the ambiguity of dawn and Louis tilts his head in response, studying Harry curiously.

“You said my name?”

“I…” Harry’s breath stutters as he tries to find a way to combat the insistent blue eyes tugging on his own, “I…did.”

Harry curses his choice. Is that the best you can do? He scolds himself.

“Were you…” Louis purses his mouth, a hint of a smile there but a mountain of tension too as his eyes nervously jump across Harry’s, “…dreaming about me?”

Harry takes a deep breath but it does nothing to clear his head. He’s got to tackle this head on. Maybe.

“Yes,” Harry breathes before rapid firing the rest of the sentence, “because I didn’t mean what you think I meant last night and it was obviously weighing on my mind the whole night through.”

Louis looks a touch disappointed, as if hoping for something else. His mouth turns down slightly at the corners but he humours Harry.

“What did you mean then?”

“I meant,” Harry swallows hard, “that I don’t want to be a pit stop on your road to destruction. Of course I don’t think…I mean, as if I could not….Louis, you’re…” Harry’s breath is trapped in his throat as blue eyes undo all the level headedness he had attempted to compile, “you’re so beautiful that I…I can’t really take my eyes off you.”

Louis looks like someone just constricted his throat and then suddenly he’s pinning Harry to the floor with his body. His bum sits directly on Harry’s crotch, his thighs squeezing the sides of Harry’s waist as he plants his hands either side of Harry’s head. Harry barely has time to breathe before Louis’ lips surge down against his. They suck and pull at his lips until with a moan, Harry surges up into Louis, parting his lips to allow entrance as one hand finds Louis’ hair and the other fists the side of his lovely jacket.

Harry knows this is at odds with what he just said, that he doesn’t want to be the pit stop. He doesn’t want to be a stage in Louis’ demise. He’s not okay with that. However, it’s stupid o’clock in the morning, Louis smells like strawberries or something equally sweet and delicious and the ends of his hair are still damp, melting into the gaps between Harry’s fingers as if they were meant to be twined around his hands this way. He can’t resist. In fact, he’s not really trying to. He grabs fistfuls of Louis’ jacket around his shoulders and then breaks away from the kiss, eyes wild.

“Legs up,” he breathes raggedly.

Louis obeys, pulling his feet up off the floor and then Harry proceeds to roll them over onto Louis’ sleeping bag, seating himself just barely on Louis’ stomach who looks up at Harry with wide awestruck eyes as if this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. Maybe it is. Harry hopes it is.

He leans down to nip at Louis lips teasingly, nosing down the central column of his neck and pushing his lips up against Louis’ Adam’s apple, breathing hot against the sensitive skin. Louis’ hands grip his hair and pull him back up to his mouth and Harry groans at the manic expression on Louis’ face, the way his eyes fill with hunger, balanced by something undeniably fond. They seek each other’s mouths in the same instant, a dual gasp emerging from their union as Harry’s hands grip Louis’ biceps tightly and Louis’ reach around him to cup the curves of his bum, bringing their bodies more tightly together.

Then, Louis breaks away with a loud gasp. He pushes gently on Harry’s chest who automatically surges forward to re-join their mouths.

“Harry,” Louis says, or pants rather, “We have to stop.”

Finally Harry’s reasoning returns and he pulls himself off Louis. He collapses onto his sleeping bag, his arms and legs spread out as though he were making a snow angel.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says slowly, mournfully even.

Louis laughs deeply and Harry pushes up on his side to look at him, confused.

“I kissed you first you eejit,” Louis says with a shivery smile.

“Eejit?”

“It’s Irish apparently,” Louis explains with a half-smile.

“Bloody Niall.”

“Look Harold,” Louis says, sitting up now with something like determination in his eyes, “we need to talk. Properly. But before we do…would you do me a favour?”

“Course,” Harry says, his voice suddenly hoarse with the way Louis’ looking at him, like that kiss is merely unfinished business.

Louis reaches behind himself and then plonks something in Harry’s lap. It’s the dark brown, leather bound book that Harry had spied Louis writing in, what feels like some time ago. Harry runs a reverent hand across its surface, looking up at Louis with wonder.

“This is your-“

“Journal,” Louis nods, “I need you to read it and then come find me at the river and we’ll talk. I mean…” Louis’ face twitches nervously, “if you want to, that is.”

Harry gulps.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Louis’ looking at the ground now as he moves to scramble out of the tent. Harry merely scrunches a hand in the back of his jacket and pulls him back into his lap, cupping his hips to stop him from toppling sideways.

“Harold!” Louis exclaims with surprise, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Harry wrecks Louis’ mouth with a savage kiss then pulls away, Louis unconsciously following his lips this time, before his awareness returns and he pulls back.

“This isn’t going to change anything,” Harry whispers, tapping the book by his side.

“No, Harry…” Louis shakes his head, exasperation in the quiet sigh he lets out, “I hope that it will.”

Harry gives him a curious look, tightening his grip as he studies Louis but Louis removes his hand and quickly slides through the flap. He disappears, leaving Harry dumbfounded. Then his eyes fix on the journal and with shaking hands, he pulls it to his lap, running another soft hand over the cover before opening it up.

At first, all Harry spies are empty pages and then he sees the numbers down the bottom right hand corners of each page and Elliot’s name written each time. Harry understands almost immediately. Louis’ been counting the days. Measuring his suffering in a numerical value. Like maybe if he just kept tallying, eventually the number would be enough to make up for what he’d assumed he’d done. Harry’s finger trails the numbers as he continues to turn each page, feeling Louis’ soul through the sometimes hard pressed script that reveals so much about the churning emotions inside him. If Louis trusted him with this…he must really…he must trust-

Then as Harry turns the next page, the script changes. Still there is Elliot’s name and the recorded number but now there is something in the centre of the page.

 

**Day one**

 

_Harry Styles._

 

It’s just his name. Just his name written in cursive, elegant script but that day, that first day when Harry had thought Louis despised him, when he’d offended Louis and his jacket, when he’d forced Louis to be his buddy…he’d never dreamed that Louis would be etching his name into his journal. It was curiosity, right? Yet Harry can’t help the small lump in his throat. All these blank pages without interruption. Until he met Harry. Harry’s eyes fly to the page beside it with eagerness now.

 

**Day Two**

 

You built your wall so high that no one could climb it but  _he’s_ gonna try…

 

Sports day. Louis with Benji. Louis helping Harry play soccer. Harry carrying Louis. Harry standing up for Louis and Louis stopping him from going too far. The first day it felt like this strange connection was spurned between them and Louis wrote these lyrics.

Harry’s hands flip to the next page, his eyes feasting on the words immediately.

 

**Day Three**

 

_I should go, before my will gets any weaker and my eyes begin to linger longer than they should._

 

Harry remembers getting to know Louis and Louis getting to know him. This was the day he shamelessly flirted with Louis and justified it to himself as wearing him down. This was the moment that his denial relented and he felt for a fraction of a second that Louis might be reflecting the same back. More lyrics. More unfathomable meanings that Harry is so damn tempted to grasp, to believe in, to hold onto and explore further.

 

**Day Four**

 

_The lingering question kept me up, 2 am who do you love? I wonder till I’m wide awake._

 

Harry doesn’t recognise the song but it makes his heart jump anyway. He remembers this day very clearly because it was the day after he lost his chill completely when Louis disappeared in the middle of the night. Yet for Louis, that was not significant enough to comment on. Instead, Harry’s memory can only conjure up one moment that may pertain to the lyrics. The words that fell from his mouth with Louis right beside him listening in, “ _how do you know I haven’t got a boyfriend at home_?” Now he recalls the way Zayn’s eyes had shifted to Louis, strangely amused by whatever he saw there.

There’s nothing over the next two days and Harry’s eyes and mouth droop with disappointment. However he thinks he can surmise why. These were the days that he and Louis avoided each other. Or…Louis avoided him really. The blank pages stare up at him cruelly, emphasising the fact that Louis had tried to erase him and to block him out after the whole nightmare ordeal.

 

**Day Seven**

 

_Can I not like you for a while?_

Harry hums the tune in his head, a smile rearranging his features as he remembers telling Louis he hadn’t learned anything he wasn’t supposed to when Louis tossed and turned in his sleep. Louis had reached out and squeezed him. He’d wanted to continue to distance himself from Harry but clearly hadn’t been able to.

 

**Day Eight**

 

_I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now…_

 

Louis had taken him up to their hill and asked him to stay.

 

**Day Nine**

 

_I don’t want to see you with anybody else. Maybe I’m selfish, I don’t know…_

At first all Harry can feel is the echo of Nathan’s unwanted kiss on his lips and all he can remember is fleeing the scene. Louis wasn’t there for that. Then he concentrates. He thinks back to the circle and the conversation and Louis’ every facial expression which he remembers with startlingly clarity, much to his chagrin. He recalls a definite downward slope to Louis’ features and then his mind provides the context. Niall licking up his neck. Louis watching Niall lick up his neck. Harry grips the book harder in his hands as he reads on.

 

**Day Ten**

 

_I still get jealous_

Louis’ beautiful poem. Harry’s blood rises as he’s brought back to Nathan’s lie and…Nathan. Nathan at the breakfast table. Nathan joining Louis and Harry on the poetry task. Even then, Louis was….I mean, Louis admitted that Nathan asking Harry out was the final block to admitting he was gay but…it’s different seeing it here, seeing it written in this personal, private way. It’s different knowing it wasn’t a heat of the moment, rash decision to prevent Nathan kissing/being with Harry. It was a slow burn. Louis was jealous all along.

 

**Day Eleven**

 

_When your fingers touch my skin  
that’s when I start to live again_

Harry had assumed that he’d scared Louis off by touching him the way he had, when he’d been teaching him archery. He’d assumed he hadn’t wanted to have Harry’s hands upon him like that, that he hated it even. It was an invasion. Yet now it seems as though…maybe he had scared Louis, but _not_  with the touch itself. Perhaps instead with its power.

  


**Day Twelve**

****  
  


Harry’s breath stops as he reads the next lyric. The night Nathan kissed him in front of Louis for the first time.

  


_Cause you’re too sexy, beautiful and everybody wants a taste_

 

**Day Thirteen**

 

_I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. I’m starting to think you want him too._

Louis had watched him like a hawk throughout that bonfire as Harry wasted his time kissing Nathan and then he’d offered him his jacket when Nathan got too close.

 

**Day Fourteen**

 

Harry knows what comes next. Their first kiss. The moment that everything really began or the moment everything really crumbled? Harry’s not sure but it seems at least in that moment, Louis was…

_You can’t be too careful anymore when all that is waiting for you won’t come any closer. You've got to reach out a little more._

 

**Day Fifteen**

 

_If I had only felt the warmth within your touch,_

_If I had only seen how you smile when you blush,_

_Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough,_

_I would have known what I was living for all along_

 

_Every kiss is a cursive line,_

_Every touch is a redefining phrase_

Two sets of lyrics. So many butterflies squirming in Harry’s stomach. His fingers run across his bottom lip as he remembers burning kisses searing straight through to his bones as they ran through the woods together. That day was…monumental… but after all that’s happened, Harry had started to think maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe he had imagined the way Louis’ eyes fixed on him like he held the key to survival.  _I would have known what I was living for all along._  Then again, maybe he really didn't.

 

**Day Sixteen**

 

_And all I know is pouring rain and everything has changed_

Kisses in the rain. Kisses in the shower. Harry turned Louis down. Harry turned Louis down and Louis thought he didn’t want him. God, how ironic….because it felt like the only thing he was compiled of that day was want he couldn’t succumb to.

 

**Day Seventeen**

 

_Hold me in your arms, tonight_

Harry remembers it with a shuddering breath. Louis openly crying in front of him. _You matter to me_ , he had said. Louis said that. Before Harry fell asleep holding him. Harry rubs a hand over his eyes as he stares down at the page. God he’s made a royal mess of things.

 

**Day Eighteen**

 

_Would you cry if you saw me crying?_

Louis told him the truth. About Elliot. Harry had been so touched by Louis, by Elliot’s pain that he’d cried himself and Louis had written about it. Harry can sense the awe in the words. All this time…Louis’ been surprised by Harry’s emotion, by his interest. That day, Louis had said he didn’t deserve Harry. How damn wrong he’d been. How damn wrong he is.

 

**Day Nineteen**

 

This day holds a series of lyrics that Harry immediately senses are all from the same song. This was when he told Louis he’d let him go, the day Louis agreed it was what he’d wanted. Or that’s what Harry had thought. Looking over the words written across the page so determinedly, he can’t help but question himself. He can’t help but wonder. If this is how Louis really feels, if he felt this way even as Harry distanced himself from the boy then….then was it really what he wanted? Why did he say being set free was what he wanted if it wasn’t?

_Well you're the only one I see love_

_And that's the one thing that won't change_

__  
  


_I will never stop losing my breath_

_Every time I see you looking back at me_

__  
  


_I will never get used to you_

__  
  


**Day Twenty**

 

Louis dressed as superman doing what Harry thought was leading him on. Teasing him. He hadn’t thought for a second that it could be anything more. Harry’s regret burns deep in his bones as he soaks up the words and the sting of hurt mingling with need behind them.

 

_I want you to want me. I need you to need me._

 

**Day Twenty One**

 

Ice skating.

 

_If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me_

_Time after time_

_If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting_

_Time after time_

 

**Day Twenty Two**

 

Just yesterday…the way they’d looked at each other as Harry sang out beautiful disaster and meant every word. Then…Louis had thought Harry had rejected him because he didn’t want him then and there. As if that were even a possibility. This page is blank and Harry doesn’t know how he senses this but he just knows…he knows Louis was deep in thought. Deliberating even. Maybe that’s what brought this whole thing on this morning.

 

**Day Twenty Three**

 

When Harry turns to the next page and his eyes trace the words written there, he feels his heart stop in his chest, his throat constricting and maybe even a touch of liquid pooling in his eyes.

“Louis,” he whispers, pained, awed and desperately, foolishly gone for him all at once.

There’s no more record of the days without Elliot. Of the days Louis has sentenced himself to suffer. His name is still there like a reminder of the past, a reminder that the past is with him always but there’s no mandate, no cruel sentence. The message beats in Harry’s chest, filling his blood vessels with light as he reads the lyrics. The lyrics that have him clutching the book to his chest and scrambling out of the tent into the woods wearing nothing but some grey baggy tracksuit pants. This is what Louis wanted him to know.

 

_I surrender who **I’ve been**  for  **who you are**. Nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart._

 

 _I'd tried so not to give in  
I said to myself this affair never will go so well  
But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well   
I've got **you**  under my_  _skin_

 

When Harry reaches the bank, there Louis is, sitting with his feet dangling in the water, looking so damn casual that Harry can’t help himself. He pulls on the denim jacket, tugging Louis roughly up and forcing him to stand. Louis looks up at him with shock.

“Harry?”

His eyes shoot down to the journal and he tenses, his arms going around himself defensively.

“Louis,” Harry says around the lump in his throat, “is this…is this true? All of it? Me?”

Louis smiles, kind of sadly and lays a palm over Harry’s bare chest, Harry’s heart beating wildly in response to his touch.

“About you…for you,” he says gently, “…because of you.”

“But I-“Harry tries to protest.

Louis pushes his hand up against Harry’s mouth and then snatches the journal, letting it fall to the grass as he begins to speak very quickly and quietly.

“I didn’t want this. I still don’t know that I do. Because feeling this way,” Louis throat clenches around the word ‘way,’ his eyes tightening as they try to hold back whatever it is he’s feeling, “is changing me from the inside out and I said I didn’t want you to help, to fix, to heal….to do whatever it is you do when you look at me like  _that_ and I don’t, I don’t want it,” Louis sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself at this point, “because I don’t know what that means for Elliot and his memory. I can’t reconcile this feeling with what happened to him. I just know…I can’t stop it from happening.”

Louis hands are around Harry’s neck as he looks up, eyes filled with tears that he won’t let fall. Harry grips the sides of his face, his gaze intense.

“What are you saying? You said you wanted me to let you go. So I did,” Harry’s voice is rough as he thumbs desperately at Louis’ cheekbones, “but you….you surrender who you’ve been for who I am? What does that really mean?”

Louis looks down and his dark eyelashes sweep against his cheeks, leaving traces of tears. Just the barest hint of liquid.

“I can’t not want you Harry and wanting you…” Louis breathes out and it’s jagged, shaky even, “it makes me happy,” his blue eyes fly up and centre on Harry’s own, “even if that’s wrong. Even if I don’t deserve it or you. Even if you don’t want me back.”

Harry brushes his thumbs along the tiny tears that seep out the edges of the melting blue eyes before him. Louis’ chest stutters as he does this, heaving slightly with emotions that swell up and expand within.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” Harry says softly.

Louis lets out a choked sob. Harry draws him close, reaching up to smooth a hand along his hair.

“You said…” Louis’ wet voice is muffled in his shoulder, “you let go. You didn’t want me.”

Harry wrenches Louis away from him, holding him by the forearms.

“I did that because you didn’t want my help. I did it because I wanted you to eat, to not get so consumed with blocking me out that you blocked everything out completely. I thought if I kept trying, it would only make you more intent on not feeling anything at all. Thought maybe if we were friends…maybe I could make a difference to your life but I never, ever stopped wanting you,” Harry says fiercely, “and that,” Louis follows Harry’s eyes to the journal, “well you were right…it does change everything…because now I know that this wasn’t a split second decision.”

Louis shakes his head, his eyes soft, and his smile indecently fond.

“It was always there,” Louis murmurs, “I’ve got you under my skin Harry Styles.”

Louis draws closer and his palms smooth over Harry’s stomach all the way up to his shoulders but Harry’s shivering. Louis notices.

“You’re not even wearing a jumper. Did you even bother to think before you came after me?” Louis scolds, shaking his head at Harry.

Harry just grins as he shakes his head in response, soaking up every ounce of feeling on Louis’ face, all this softness just for him. He doesn’t know why he never really saw it before. He feels like he has the word  _yours_  written on his forehead every time Louis’ eyes sweep across his face. More still, when Louis reaches up a hand to clasp the side of his face, still shaking his head, Harry can feel the word  _mine_ burned into the curve of the hand upon his cheek. It leaves an ashen imprint that glows fiery red, with flickering embers, when Louis draws his hand back.

“Here,” Louis sighs, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Harry.

Harry pushes it back forcefully.

“I’m not wearing this. You’ll be cold then. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“The kind of guy who decides to take a walk through the woods without a jacket.”

“I ran actually.”

“Harry,” Louis says, a warning imminent in his tone.

“But-“

“Look,” Louis interrupts, “it’s not just that you’ll be cold. I’d like you to wear it. I mean, for starters I’m not letting my-“Louis falters, his eyes widening slightly before continuing “I’m not letting you walk back into camp wearing next to nothing. Nathan will ogle you and Niall will probably do something inappropriate just because he can and also, I just…” Louis eyes track Harry’s legs down to their feet and Harry thinks the shyness is adorable, “I like you. In my stuff.”

Harry takes the jacket from Louis and Louis’ eyes fly up to his. He smiles brilliantly.

“Thank you,” he says with an exhalation of an air that feels something like a caress.

Harry shrugs the jacket on which is much too small and doesn’t really cover his chest anyway. Louis’ eyebrows furrow at this as he surveys Harry and then he steps closer, pulling the jacket tighter around Harry and zipping it up the whole way.

“Much better,” he says with a decisive nod.

Harry tilts his chin up with a finger.

“If you’d stop fussing with the jacket for a second, I’d like to kiss you.”

Louis blushes just slightly and the beautiful pink colour blooming beneath the honey tones of his skin is so at odds with Louis’ usual barriers that it thrills Harry to see its return.

“So kiss me you fool,” Louis says with a throaty voice.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Harry returns, just as their lips meet.

This kiss is much gentler than the one they shared earlier. It no longer holds the same tension or desperation. Harry wants Louis in all kinds of ways but for now…this is only about consolidating what they’ve just realised…that as much as Louis wants to deny himself good things and as much as Harry wants to be able to help him objectively and without entanglement…they just can’t resist the pull.

Louis’ stretched up on the balls of his feet, his hand squeezing the back of Harry’s neck gently. Harry’s hands are knitted in the back of Louis’ hair, ensuring their lips stay joined as long as he needs. Their mouths pull at each other, lips sliding over lips as they find their rhythm. They kiss just for the feel of lips upon lips, just for the feeling of Louis’ bottom lip encased in Harry’s mouth and Louis’ tongue meeting Harry’s. Their mouths blend together, fitting against each other like two perfect puzzle pieces.

When they finally part, Harry bows his head, pressing his forehead gently against Louis’ as they both let out a laboured breath and then laugh at how perfectly in tune they are. Louis tilts his head back, pushing his mouth against Harry’s briefly again.

“Are you ready to face the vultures?” He whispers, eyes still lit up with joy as he tracks a hand down Harry’s body to his hip and squeezes.

Harry can’t help himself either. It’s like now they’ve opened everything up, neither of them can resist touching. Neither of them want to. Harry’s hands smooth across Louis’ collar bones as he responds, coming to rest on the tiny, shapely shoulders that he appreciates more than he thinks is normal.

“By vultures, I assume you mean our friends?”

Louis smiles gently at the word ‘our,’ clearly overwhelmed by the fact that Harry considers them his friends too.

“They’re going to want to know everything and Niall will probably get needy,” Harry adds with a crooked smile.

“Is he going to start calling us his daddies?” Louis asks with a look of trepidation.

Harry laughs deeply.

“Clearly you’ve cottoned on to what he’s like. Affectionate as hell. Overly invested in my love life. He’ll probably hook onto you like a koala for the rest of the day and that’s him being  _happy_ for us. If things really went haywire, he’d be much worse,” Harry explains.

“Well then,” Louis announces and he twines his hand with Harry’s, making Harry’s heart melt just a little, “let’s go get ‘em.”

Harry rubs a thumb down Louis’ hand, before retrieving the nearly forgotten journal and tucking it under his arm as they depart. He smiles down at Louis whose eyes caress his features with nothing short of tempered adoration.

“I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less or anyone I’d like to do it with more,” Harry promises.

Louis walks backward now, stretching their hands out so their fingers are barely touching. Harry frowns in response.

“Well babe,” Louis says and Harry’s stomach flips, his lips twitching, “catch me if you can.”

Then he turns and runs but Harry’s invested. He slides the journal inside the tight jacket and then sets off. His long strides assist him in catching Louis and he wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s waist, restraining him as he giggles. He drops a kiss to the side of Louis’ neck because well, he might be a bastard but he’s an undeniably cute bastard and Harry can’t resist. I mean, Louis just giggled for Christ’s sake. Then Harry turns him in his arms and with minimal effort, reaches up under his arms and lifts him.

“Legs. Waist. Now,” he orders.

Louis struggles, kicking his legs and turning his head this way and that.

“No Harry. I’m not a baby,” he whines.

Harry’s eyes flicker sideways to a patch of mud.

“It’s mud or me. Which would you prefer?”

Louis’ legs lock around his waist obediently and his arms go around his shoulders. Harry can barely see anything but it’s worth it, just to grip Louis’ thighs and then let his hand gravitate up to his bum, squeezing slightly as Louis’ thighs squeeze his sides.

“Now what? You can’t see anything,” Louis complains, looking over Harry with impatient blue eyes, “We’re going to fall down a ravine.”

Harry laughs and then presses his lips up against Louis’. Louis sighs with pretend annoyance but kisses Harry until their mouths start to melt together and Harry’s hands tighten compulsively on Louis’ fine bum.

“Now, drop your head to my shoulder,” Harry says in a breathy voice.

Louis follows his instructions and now Harry can see the way ahead and he begins to walk.

“This is detrimental to my masculinity,” Louis says petulantly, his mouth rubbing against Harry’s shoulder blade and distracting him slightly.

Harry runs his hands from Louis’ bum to the base of his thighs and back, painstakingly slow, spreading his hands out across every inch of Louis’ legs as he does so.

“Okay, ‘s not so bad,” Louis admits grudgingly.

Harry laughs again and then reaches one hand up, the other holding Louis in place, as he runs his hand up the back of his hair.

“You were wrong Lou,” Harry says in a hushed tone.

“About?” Louis asks, sounding distinctly sleepy now as he turns his head to the side so his cheek is mushed up against Harry’s shoulder. 

It makes Harry’s mouth curve unnaturally high.

“You are a baby…at least in one sense. You’re my baby.”

Louis doesn’t say anything back but he doesn’t protest either and Harry spends the rest of the walk back to camp, smiling like crazy. There’s so much that’s still up in the air. So much that could go wrong. Yet Harry feels like they’re finally on the right track. The boy wrapped around his body wants him with equal intensity.

…..

“Louis,” Harry hisses, “we can’t just hide all day.”

Louis’ currently towing Harry through the tents, tiptoeing around as if the grass beneath his TOMS is actually capable of making a significant noise. Harry’s pretty sure that everybody is in the centre undertaking some kind of activity but he supposes there is still every chance that they’ll run into one of the boys ducking back to grab something from their tent.

Of course Harry would prefer not to explain his swollen lips and the fact that he’s donned in Louis’ jacket…again. However he knows an explanation is inevitable. The tricky thing is knowing what to say. He’s not altogether sure he even knows where Louis’ head is at yet.

“Haz,” Louis whispers, plucking the strings in Harry’s stomach because god damn, so much softness mixed with that smoky, husky quality is just plain lethal, “why do now what you can put off till later?”

Harry’s forehead forms folds of cynicism.

“You know that’s not how that saying goes.”

Louis tugs on Harry’s hand then, pulling him sharply into his chest, pressing a hand against his back so that their bodies are secured closely together. His hand slips up under the back of the tiny denim jacket Harry’s clothed in to paw at the skin beneath and Harry’s breath halts very noticeably. Louis’ eyes are like two pools of liquid persuasion as he draws closer, squeezing Harry’s waist.

“Why are you trying to thwart me love?” He says in a hushed whisper, “don’t you want to go do fun things?”

Harry groans and then slides his fingers back into Louis’ hair where they seem destined to stay and with a strange mix of relish and frustration, he brings his mouth down. Harry can feel Louis’ smile in the kiss, the stretching of his lips and it only grows when Louis tries to break for breath and Harry tugs on his hair to bring him back. Oxygen or Louis. His mouth wants Louis. Louis obviously finds this weakness delightful.

“I’ll take that as your acquiescence,” Louis says with an indulgent wink.

“Someone swallowed a dictionary,” Harry teases.

Louis rolls his eyes and then they simultaneously begin to walk again, threading through the different tents until they find they own. Louis pushes Harry through the flap and then practically falls on top of him, straddling him immediately as their lips find each other. Tasting. Teasing. Biting. Their hands knot in each other’s hair and pull in response to one another as their gasping breaths fill the silence.

Finally Louis pulls back a bit, just brushing his mouth gently against the outside of Harry’s. With tender fingers fluttering against his cheeks, Harry opens his eyes. His eyes catch on the massive bear on Louis’ side of the tent that sits with a distinctive green jacket in its lap. Harry wrenches himself up into a sitting position, holding Louis as he does so, so that Louis winds up in his lap, legs coming to rest more comfortably around his lower back. Louis appears disgruntled for a moment before shrugging and resuming the kiss.

“Lou,” Harry sighs against his mouth, much too dazed, sounding completely and utterly high on the boy currently trying to kiss away his speech.

Louis barely responds and why should he? All it sounds like is a blissful, soft endearment.

“Lou,” Harry says more insistently now but Louis just continues to explore, “please,” Louis’ mouth sucks far too aggressively on his own; it’s heavenly but ultimately distracting, “need to-“ another silencing kiss, “ask you-“ kiss, “something.”

Louis suddenly pulls back with a frustrated sigh of “yes Harold?” and Harry loves the impatience in his eyes. He reaches up and soothes with a thumb pressed to the apex of his cheekbone.

“You haven’t seemed to need the jacket recently,” Harry tilts his head in said object’s direction, “I was just wondering why? Finally realised you’re too tiny to fit into it?”

He slides his hands down the sides of Louis’ torso with a twinkle in his eye, being sure to squeeze the tiny waist that turns him on more than anything. Louis shakes his head with a grin and then his arms are up around Harry’s neck, his fingers locked there as he regards Harry with sudden seriousness.

“It was Elliot’s,” he says, his mouth quivering a little, “Mrs S gave it to me the day of the funeral. Said he’d want me to have it because she didn’t know…” there’s a deep breath before he continues, “what I did…but I took it anyway. I wanted a piece of him. We used to share it you see. It was technically Elliot’s but it spent just as much time at my house as it did at his. At first, it was a selfish way of accessing his memory and then…then it was just my own personal reminder that I needed to stay removed from the world. That no matter where I went or who I met, the cost of what I did would always be with me…and so it should be.”

Harry doesn't realise he’s been rubbing circles into Louis’ hipbones until Louis’ eyes trail down to his hands with a small, sad smile.

“You need to be free,” Harry says insistently.

“Don’t you understand?” Louis swallows now, looking up into Harry’s pleading green eyes with a plea of his own, “that’s why you scare me. That’s why I haven’t been towing around the jacket. I feel like you might just be giving me the power to forgive myself. It’s terrifying.”

“Lou,” Harry says, a wet kind of gratitude coating his tone as he grasps Louis’ face.

“I know,” Louis runs the back of his palm down Harry’s cheek, “I know love.”

“There’s more…” Louis continues and then he colours beautifully beneath the skin.

Harry’s thumbs brush against the pink ovals of patchy colour that span the width of his cheeks.

“Tell me,” Harry says, as gently and as supportively as he can manage.

Louis’ eyes fasten on the back of the tent over Harry’s shoulder but if this is what Louis needs to be honest then Harry’s fine with it.

“I didn’t want to erase you. It smells like you still. I thought…you know, when I thought you didn’t want me…I just wanted a piece of you. Any piece.”

Harry turns Louis’ head and kisses him forcibly for a few moments.

“I did want you,” Harry says, eyes roving over Louis’ features with blatant hunger to emphasise his point, “but I didn’t want just any piece. I couldn’t bear to have just one piece. I wanted…all of you.”

Somehow after that, Harry ends up flat on his back with Louis grinding down against him, their moans only quietened by the fact that their mouths are suctioned together. However neither of them lets it go past a certain point and Louis eventually slides down to Harry’s side, snuggling in like he’s always belonged. He snakes an arm around Harry’s waist, then frowns as he realises the journal is still inside the jacket. After he’s removed the item, he rests his head on Harry’s chest creating the perfect angle for Harry to lean over him and kiss the thick, dark hair he loves so much.

Harry leaves his lips there afterwards, humming a gentle melody as he slips a hand around to Louis’ back, just stroking the warm, sensitive patch of skin at the base of his spine until Louis’ quite possibly humming too. It’s the way they fall asleep, all tangled up in each other and even when they wake at different times throughout the day, in desperate need of food or a wee, they ignore it. They ignore everything that isn’t them and their little bubble, more or less setting a precedent for their future, knowingly or not.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned: Isn't she lovely - Stevie Wonder   
> WARNING: Some more serious, angsty stuff associated with depression.  
> However, good things too :)   
> Hopefully you enjoy this xx

_Day Twenty Four_

“Harry,” a voice interrupts his very peaceful dream.

Harry voices his annoyance with an animalistic growl. There’s a quiet, silky laugh and then fingers brushing through his curls. Well okay…that feels nice. He knows that much. He pushes up into it and there’s more laughter and then a half despairing, half endeared…

“Haz, whatever will I do with you?”

Louis. The events of the previous day flood Harry’s consciousness and his closed eyelids tense as he pouts unhappily, stretching his arms out for the hand that’s been retracted from his hair.

“Lou?”

The hand returns, gliding across his forehead and into his hair, the other gently cupping his shoulder.

“I’m right here love. Good morning.”

Louis sounds kind of gratified that Harry might be so receptive to his touch.

Harry puckers his lips and then taps them expectantly, eyes still closed. Louis chuckles once more and then presses his closed mouth against Harry’s for way too short a time. Harry’s eyes fly open so he can flash Louis a real look of annoyance. However, Louis’ own eyes are filled with triumph and his smile is smug as he covers Harry’s mouth again, this time opening up to allow their tongues to graze, sending tingles down Harry’s spine.

“Knew I could get you to open your eyes,” Louis whispers.

Harry just reaches out and pulls him down so that Louis topples onto his chest, their faces resting tantalisingly close.

“Think I’m stupid enough to argue against you having your wicked way with me?”

Louis’ smile is devilish.

“I’m sure we can come up with something much more wicked than this Harold.”

“Is that a promise?”

Louis nods, a tight lipped smile marking his lips.

“But first-“

“We’ve got to face the music,” Harry fills in, planting a hand on the side of Louis’ hip as he rolls them over and sits up, holding out a hand to pull Louis up too.

Once out of the tent, Harry surveys Louis’ body. Tight black jeans, a loose grey singlet that flaps away from his body to reveal his chest as Harry looks down and to make matters worse…or more hopeless for Harry….the scruff on his face is as yet unshaven and he looks all the more manly. All the more dangerous. All the more like Harry coming in his pants, just from imagining slipping his hand down the back of those jeans to the prize beneath.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Harry moans, biting his lip as he eyes Louis’ behind.

Louis tugs on his hand with a super-humanly, beautiful smile.

“I’m not opposed to the way you’re checking me out right now but….save it for later,” Louis says, lowering his voice as they draw closer to the centre, “I promise you, you can whisper all your dirty thoughts in my ear as we make them a reality.”

Harry feels awfully stiff in his jeans at the thought and Louis laughs delightedly as he notices the marked bulge in Harry’s pants. However it doesn’t stop him from towing Harry into the centre. In fact, he has the same spark in his eye as a mad inventor, desperate to see how many chemicals he can mix together before they all combust in an explosion of light and smoke. If Louis’ got anything to do with it, Harry’s quite sure he’ll spontaneously combust before day’s end.

The ‘music’ that they’re to face starts the moment they walk through the doors hand in hand, looking at each other, for all intents and purposes, like there’s nothing they’d rather look at more. The first stop is Nathan who appears spontaneously beside them. It’s just as Harry’s compiling a bowl of fruit and yoghurt for a seriously fond Louis whose hand rests low on his lower back, steadying him, as he leans over the bench.

“So you two are really a thing now?” Nathan says with a sharp edge to his voice.

His oily black hair is pulled back in a tight bun but it only shows off the disturbing hateful light in the muddied waters of his eyes. However, Harry is amused to note that he’s wearing black braces over his shirt, as if he could even try to compete with the masterpiece beside Harry. Harry hands Louis his bowl, squeezing the muscle in his upper arm, purely because he can, before turning fully in Nathan’s direction.

“We’re a thing,” Harry says with confidence, despite the fact that really he has no clue what they are in essence, “really.”

Nathan’s mouth twists into a sneer and he points a stubby finger at Harry’s face.

“Mark my words Harry, you've got a nutter on your hands and you’ll end up in the loony bin yourself soon.”

Harry grinds his teeth furiously but when he glances sideways, Louis’ got a sunny smile on his face as he leans forward and pinches Nathan’s cheek.

“Aw Nath, poor bitter, jealous Nath.”

Harry’s laugh speaks of pleasant surprise and Louis winks at him, still grinning from ear to ear. Nathan bats Louis’ hand away, looking monstrous and it’s all Harry can do not to throw him to the ground simply for touching Louis so aggressively.

“I’m not jealous,” Nathan spits, looking Harry up and down now with exaggerated distaste, “nothing to be jealous of.”

“Be jealous of this,” Louis says softly.

Before Harry knows what’s happening, Louis’ swooping him in a low arc towards the ground, one hand clenching around the back of his neck, the other on his back. Louis holds him in place as his lips move roughly against Harry’s, making him forget everything but the taste of Louis on his tongue and his own greedy mouth. That is until Louis breaks away, pulling him back up into a standing position. He looks rather pleased with himself, a distinctive gleam in his eyes that fills his whole face with light.

“You’re a lot stronger than I thought,” Harry says with a grin.

Louis’ smile crinkles and turns sweet and then they’re pressed together again as Louis kisses him soft and slow this time. When they move away, Nathan is still there, staring at them with pained creases lining his face. Jealousy. It’s obvious in the tight set of his mouth and the concentrated look in those greenish-brown eyes that fix on them with the kind of anger that only comes from not having what you want. Louis reaches up to Harry and runs his hand through his curls. Harry’s head falls back at the pleasing sensation.

“Be jealous that I get to touch him like this,” Louis says quietly, still with that golden glow shining through from his bones to his skin.

Nathan doesn’t say anything now, just turns and stalks away with one last vicious look at Louis’ hand in Harry’s hair. Louis uses his hand as leverage to draw Harry’s head down to his lips.

“That was brilliant,” Harry sighs against his mouth, nipping at it immediately afterwards.

“C’mon love, we’ve got a very eager bunch of friends to face over there,” Louis says, pointing out their table behind Harry’s shoulder.

As they make their way over, Harry spots Niall bobbing in his seat, staring at them with wide, blue eyes while Zayn and Liam offer their own curious looks in between trading looks with each other. 

As soon as Louis sits down beside Niall, there’s a bubbling, Irish blonde in his lap, arms slung around his shoulders. Harry tries to stifle the urge to push him off. It’s just Niall after all.

“Tell me,” Niall says, looking at Louis with pleading blue eyes.

Harry laughs heartily. It still amazes him how Niall can simultaneously hate everything about relationships and yet still be remarkably obsessed with hearing the details of them. Not that he and Louis have a relationship yet….Harry’s getting way ahead of himself…

“Tell you what?” Louis sighs, sounding bothered but Harry can see the happy crinkles around his eyes and the fond amusement bubbling up on his lips.

“What happened! You guys are mysteriously missing for a whole day then you walk in holding hands and you kiss H until the two of you are blushing to your roots with delight and Nathan looks like he’s about to punch your lights out,” Niall rants, clearly worked up.

Louis tries to loosen Niall’s rather tight grip on his shoulder and when that doesn’t work, Harry does it for him, sending him a rather sweet smile as he does so.

“Jesus Christ!” Niall exclaims, sliding sideways off Louis’ lap, “I can’t be near that. Seriously, stop looking at him like that.”

“Like what?” Harry says, perfectly coy, as he continues to swallow Louis’ form with the smile in his eyes.

Finally, Zayn butts in.

“Like you want to kiss him all over his face and giggle into his mouth then take him back to your tent and do dirty things to him.”

Niall bursts into raucous laughter, leaning around Louis to point at Harry’s face.

“That’s the look. That’s exactly the look on your face.”

Harry just wraps an arm around Louis’ side, dimples inching higher as Louis shuffles closer.

“Well,” he says, “who wouldn’t want to kiss him all over his face?”

Harry’s rewarded with a lengthy, slow and steady kiss from Louis and a smile that says it all.

“So, are you two going to fess up?” Zayn says now.

“What happened?” Liam adds, slinging an arm up around Zayn.

“Well…” Louis starts, looking sideways at Harry who nods, trusting him to do the talking, “I gave Harry my journal and Harry liked what he saw…I think,” Harry rolls his eyes… as if there was any possibility that he didn’t, “and he met me by the river and we-“

“We decided we’d been mindless fools,” Harry finishes with a grin.

Louis returns it.

“So you’re like…together now?” Liam asks, a concentrated crease above his nose.

“Ah…” Harry says awkwardly watching Louis’ face seize up with fear, “well we’re just…I mean we haven’t…”

“Oh babe,” Zayn says with a smirk as he leans his head on Liam’s shoulder, “you’ve put your foot in it now. They obviously haven’t discussed it.”

“Look I think…I think we just know there’s no point fighting ourselves…or each other, trying to stay away,” Harry says, looking to Louis for confirmation.

Louis nods and then lays a proprietary hand over Harry’s thigh under the table, squeezing the skin beneath his tight jeans slightly.

“I knew you’d both get your shit together eventually,” Niall says suddenly, looking to Louis with a mischievous smirk “I knew quite early on how you felt Tommo. You shot daggers at me when I licked his neck, didn’t you?”

Louis ducks his head, eyelashes feathered out across his cheek bones as he smiles, tight lipped. Harry rubs his hand along Louis’ hip, leaning close to kiss the side of his hair.

“Cause you know I get excited, when you get jealous too,” Harry sings lowly in his ear and Louis’ fingers tighten on his thigh in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing tellingly.

Definitely aroused.

“I think he’d love a ‘property of Louis Tomlinson, hands off’ sign to hang around Harry’s neck,” Zayn teases.

“If you want to arrange that, I’m not going to oppose it. I mean…if that’s what you think is best of course. Personally, I have no real interest in the matter,” Louis says with exaggerated, wide eyed innocence, tucking his spoon into his bowl immediately afterward.

Harry swipes his mouth over Louis’ pulse point, nibbling just a little.

“No interest ay?” He breathes hotly as Louis’ spoon hangs limp in his hand, nowhere near his mouth.

Louis lets it clatter to the bowl, turning to grab Harry’s jaw.

“None whatsoever,” Harry tries to turn away but Louis holds him in place, “but you…that’s a whole other matter entirely…I’m very interested in you Harry Styles.”

The blisteringly hot kiss is inevitable. The three boys groan collectively which makes Harry and Louis both smile into the kiss.

“Harry,” a deep voice bellows, carrying across the tables.

Harry breaks from Louis reluctantly, turning back to find Paul stood at the front of the centre with his hands on hips. Harry gulps.

“You’ll be right love,” Louis whispers in his ear, “it’s not like he can do anything about it. Just be straight with him.”

Harry sighs his defeat and rises unsteadily, drifting over to Paul whose furrowed brow matches Harry’s. He’s dressed in all black and looks especially formidable when he crosses his arms expectantly as Harry closes the distance between them.

“Paul,” Harry greets him, determined to at least try and pretend that his lips aren’t swollen from making out with his buddy.

“Harry, we need to talk,” Paul says, with foreboding, his large hands resting on his hips once more.

“Look Paul, I know it seems like I took advantage or like maybe I put my needs before Louis’ but I promise-“

“Harry,” Paul restrains him with a hand to his shoulder, “it’s not about you being his buddy.”

“It’s not?”

“No…I think, I think since he met you he’s been different. It’s not just the talking. He smiles and laughs so often and it’s real, it’s genuine and even an old fart like me could tell….when he looked at you and when you looked at him…it was like chaos in the best way,” Harry smiles at the description but it freezes as Paul continues, “but there’s something you need to know. Not because I think you shouldn’t get involved with him…but…I just think you need to know if he’s okay now because he wasn’t for a long time and-“

“I know Paul,” Harry says tiredly, “I know about Elliot. I know about everything Louis’ been through.”

Paul shakes his head, looking solemn.

“There’s one thing you don’t know and I know he’ll never tell you. It’s not up to me to tell you, I know that…but if he won’t, what choice do I have?”

“Paul,” Harry’s throat feels tight, “what are you trying to say? You’re scaring me.”

It comes out in deep, low tones, the words reverberating through Harry’s body like a loud echo, bouncing off his organs and tracking pain everywhere they touch.

“Harry….after Elliot died, Louis tried to kill himself.”

Harry’s face folds in on itself and Paul squeezes his shoulder hard.

“He…he what?” Harry stutters, unable to comprehend, his heart smacking against his ribs with unrelenting emotion.

“It was just once. About a month after. Absolutely destroyed Jay and I think that’s what stopped him ever trying it again. That’s how he wound up here the first year. Jay contacted me and asked if I could help her son. Didn’t think twice of course but nothing worked…nothing….and then you come along and it’s like someone shoved a fire cracker up his bum. He’s like a completely different person with you Harry….but I just, I don’t know if he’s all healed inside and I didn’t want you to go rushing headlong into something without knowing because what that could do to him…and to you…”

Paul trails off, looking over Harry with concern who’s basically shuddering with the intensity of the emotions coursing through his veins. Harry turns away and amid Paul’s protests, storms back to the table, expression murderous. He can’t get the image out of his brain.

A body. A pale, unanimated corpse with wax figure lips and honey toned eyelids closed in defeat. A heart that wouldn’t race for Harry, finely cut cheekbones that wouldn’t colour rosy pink. They would never have met. Louis was just a child and it would have been all over. All that beauty and brilliance…vanquished and not by cruel fate, not by someone setting out to hurt him…but by himself.

Deep down Harry knows this is not how this revelation is supposed to make him feel. He’s supposed to talk it out, maybe hold Louis’ hand and counsel him through it because Louis is his buddy. He’s supposed to be able to listen calmly and compassionately to the details without losing his head or getting upset himself. Yet Harry can’t return to that now. Louis is his….his something. Louis just means more than anybody before him and Harry can’t think straight. He’s filled with anger. He wants to shake any person that would ever touch Louis like that and scar his beautiful skin with wounds. He wants to hurt them. Right now, that person is Louis himself.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry says and it sounds like there’s a vice gripping his throat, his tone absolutely lethal.

Louis looks up at the sound of Harry’s strained request and the other boys give him curious looks too.

“What did Paul say?” Niall asks, with a grin, “Did he tell you, you have to switch tents?”

“Not a good time Niall,” Harry snarls and the blonde boy looks thoroughly taken aback.

Harry doesn’t speak to anybody like that, least of all Niall.

“You alright mate?” Zayn asks, eyeing Harry as if trying to figure out what brought about the disturbed mania he can see plain on Harry’s face.

Harry grips Louis by the wrist and tugs him up into a standing position. Louis looks up at him almost fearfully and somewhere in the back of his rage filled mind, that hurts but he can’t get beyond his manic state right now.

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Ah Harry,” Liam says, sounding more than a little worried.

“Yes?”

“I think you’re hurting him,” He says quietly.

When Harry looks down, Louis’ face is very subtly clenched and Harry realises just how tightly he’s squeezing the tiny wrist encased in his hand. He loosens his clutch immediately, feeling awful.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps.

“It’s okay,” Louis murmurs, reaching up to cradle Harry’s face, “Haz, what’s going on?”

That’s what breaks Harry. His eyes start to fill with tears and he doesn’t hesitate to bury his head in Louis’ shoulder, mumbling the words so he knows only Louis will hear.

“We need to get out of here.”

After a tense walk back to the tent, there they sit across from each other, Louis’ face a mixture of sadness and fear and Harry trembling like a leaf as he tries to hold back. To maintain the peace. To not handle Louis like that, like a fucking animal, ever again.

“Paul told me the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” Louis says, all too casual as he slides his eyes over the sleeping bag, avoiding Harry by concentrating on smoothing out the creases.

Yet the tremor in his voice tells a different story.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Louis. The one fact you conveniently managed to leave out when you told me about Elliot.”

“I don’t…I don’t know…” Louis blusters, downcast eyelashes beating too quick against his cheeks.

“Stop trying to avoid this because you can’t,” Harry says with a firm tone, “I know what happened. I know you tried to kill yourself Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis’ voice rasps and it tears at Harry’s consciousness as Louis’ fingers knit in his own jacket that Harry’s still wearing with eyes that are desperate and wide, “please….don’t leave.”

Harry grips the sides of Louis’ arms which shake beneath his fingers. They’re so cold, so very cold, so Harry undoes the jacket and pulls it onto Louis who complies rather woodenly. Now Harry’s shirtless and rather cold himself but Louis…Louis is all that matters.

“I’m not leaving,” Harry says with confusion, “I’m not going anywhere. Why would I leave?”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Louis’ chest heaves, “and I’m so messed up and you’re angry and I-“

“Louis,” Harry placates, sweeping his arms down Louis’ sides to rest on his hips, “am I angry you didn’t tell me? Yes. But that’s not it. Not really. I’m angry because of what you did…because you did something that could have ended the person I see before me…the person I happen to care about. I know…” Harry breathes out, “I know you weren’t in your right mind. I shouldn’t be angry. I just….I just couldn’t bear the thought…but Lou, I’m not going to leave…god, I would never. I couldn’t leave you now.”

“Okay,” Louis says quietly and then he lies down, curling onto his side, still facing Harry with wide, blue eyes.

So Harry lies down beside him and cups his cheek, stroking the curve.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Harry says gently, trying to remove his own personal bias, trying to get back to his mediator status, “please.”

Louis nods but his eyes swell with tears and he closes them to prevent them from falling.

“At first, I went completely mute. After the funeral, I promised myself only darkness and emptiness. I stayed true to that, I did but my family were at a loss. Mum and Dan would beg me just to speak and my sisters didn’t understand at all. Then mum got desperate. She decided she would take me, kicking and screaming, to therapy. I wouldn’t say anything of course but she’d take me to counsellor after counsellor and then, one day she said maybe it’d help to talk to Elliot’s mum.”

Louis’ whole face tenses and Harry continues to try to soothe by tracing circles into his skin. Louis’ eyes open now and they’re all bloodshot, all the tears being held in creating such an effect.

“What next?” Harry prompts.

“I was so tired,” Louis says shakily, tilting his head back and blinking away more tears, “and I didn’t want to constantly be asked about him. I thought I could live a sad, empty life, only without him constantly in my thoughts but my mum was not on board with that. I knew she’d only continue to try and force it out of me…what happened, my sadness….everything…she wanted to know. And I couldn’t give in….and when she suggested Mrs S…that was the breaking point. That was the guilt rising up to face me in human form. And when I got home from school that day, mum had left a letter from Mrs S on the bed…”

“You’re okay,” Harry assures him, guiding a hand over his shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Louis nods and then continues.

“It was from just after the funeral but I’d never seen it. Mum must have kept it from me because she knew it would upset me but I don’t know…I guess she was at her wit’s end…she was willing to try anything. The letter was kind….more than kind…it was-“Louis’ breath stutters, “more than I deserved. She told me how much she loved me and how much she still wanted me in her life even though Elliot was gone,” Louis’ voice breaks over the word gone, “and that just made me feel worse. How could I be in her life knowing what I’d done and yet without me, who did she really have to turn to? I was her last real connection to Elliot.

“I couldn’t hold him back anymore. I couldn’t lock him away in a box in my head and simply feel nothing. He was there like a weight pressing down and I was crying on my bed… I remember and I could barely breathe for how hard I was crying and then it was all so much, it was all so much Haz and I just thought,” Louis looks up at Harry with this look that’s so vulnerable, so innocent and yet so pained that it physically hurts Harry, “maybe there’s a better way. Maybe I can end this for everybody.”

Harry’s got tears on his face and Louis’ fingers brush over them with a certain amount of awe…forever surprised by his own worth.

“What did you do?” Harry asks, his throat thickening.

“I took a bunch of pills from the medicine cabinet and then I lay on my bed and just watched the sun go down outside for a bit and I swear, I know it’s terrible but I swear, there was this moment, right before my eyes shut that I felt… free,” Harry’s breath hitches painfully at the words, at the thought that Louis could be that determined to die, “because I knew I wouldn’t have to live with it anymore and no one would have to live with me. It was just….over.”

Harry doesn’t realise that his own chest is shaking, tiny gasping sobs escaping his mouth, until Louis presses his thumbs to the corners of his eyes and swipes away the new tears forming.

“Harry,” he croaks, overwhelmed.

“Keep,” there’s a shuddery breath-sob, “going.”

Louis frowns but continues.

“My mum came home from work pretty soon after that. She’s a nurse so she handled it pretty well even amongst her horror at seeing me like that. I was in a coma for a few days and when I came out of it, it was straight down to the psych ward. I did all the right things, said what I needed to, to get out of there. I’d already decided some things that first night after I woke up from the coma.”

“What did you decide?”

“That killing myself wasn’t atoning for anything. That it was selfish. How dare I try to find a way out? I was meant to live with what I’d done, to remember him every day and feel awful. And it wasn’t just that, it was seeing my mum’s face when I woke and she whispered ‘boo’ and then broke down sobbing, petting at my face like she couldn’t believe I was real. I wanted to be better for her but I wanted to suffer for Elliot. I couldn’t reconcile the two.

“So I did both…to the best of my ability. I stopped being mute. My mum learned not to ask about Elliot or Mrs S or the past in general. We started fresh and I did my best to be okay for her. She knew I wasn’t happy of course, which is how I ended up here every year,” Louis looks around the tent now, “but there wasn’t anything she could do. I started wearing the jacket, taking it everywhere as a reminder. I always wanted him with me….just so that I knew that I had no choice, so that his death was pressing down on me every minute, of every day, of every year until the day I died for real.”

“Lou,” Harry breathes, sliding closer and slinging an arm around Louis’ waist.

“Now you know,” Louis says, matter of fact, “now you know the truth.”

“I need to know you’d never try that again. Tell me you’re past it. Please,” Harry begs, fingers brushing down Louis’ cheek.

“I would never. Like I told you, it was selfish. It wasn’t fair to Elliot or to my mum. I wouldn’t want to hurt her like that ever again. I don’t think she’s ever recovered…she still locks the medicine cabinet….she still calls out to me every time she gets home and when I don’t answer, she comes racing up the stairs in a panic. And then there’s you…” Louis trails off semi-awkwardly.

“Me?”

“Things are different for me now….because of you. Because I want to be here, on earth, to be with you. If there is no Harry Styles in the next world,” Louis grips Harry’s face, smiling weakly now, “then it’s not really a place I want to go.”

It’s a big statement. Huge. Yet as much as it melts the walls of Harry’s heart, it bothers him too.

“I-I mean that’s wonderful. You’re wonderful,” Harry says meaningfully, “but that’s not enough,” Louis’ face registers surprise, “because I need you to want to live for you, Lou. Not for your mum or Elliot’s memory…or even me. I need you to want this because you’d rather be in this world than out of it.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Louis says, scrambling into a sitting position and pulling Harry up with him.

He crawls into Harry’s lap and Harry supports him, as always, with a hand pressed to his lower back as Louis’ hands melt into his curls, tugging just slightly.

“You, Harry Styles, are not simply a reason to live….you’re the reason I see why I should want to. You gave me hope Harry,” Louis’ eyes water but there’s so much strength there, so much wonder, “and I-I look around now and I see possibilities. You showed me everything that I could be capable of and the happiness that I could have if I just let myself grab hold. You wanted so much for me that I suddenly realise I want it all for myself too. I want all of it….and I think,” shaky breath, “I want it all with you.”

Harry’s lips surge towards Louis’ with passion and Louis’ gripping his hair, pulling just enough to make Harry see stars as he splays his hand over Louis’ back possessively.

“Louis,” Harry sighs against his lips, “you’re,” he brushes over his lips again, “so,” another breathy kiss that makes Louis’ head fall back slightly with ecstasy, “beautiful. So strong.”

Louis breaks the kiss and looks Harry dead in the eyes now as his hands smooth up over his bare chest to squeeze his shoulders tightly.

“I want you. Now. Be my…my first.”

Harry’s eyes bulge a little.

“It’s your-“

“First time, yeah…I mean, I never did anything with girls and I hadn’t confronted the other side of me, not until you. But I’m ready,” Louis says with fiery determination, swooping down for another kiss, rocking his hips into Harry slightly, “so ready for you.”

That’s all it takes. Harry gasps against his mouth and then picks Louis up, his legs still locked around Harry’s waist and throws him down against Louis’ sleeping bag with inhuman speed. Finally all the tension of these past few weeks and all the tension of their conversation is exploding within Harry. Like a mushroom cloud of radiation, it’s stealing over his body, getting progressively closer to breaking free completely and Louis’ drawing it out oh so quickly with the lustful look in his brilliant, blue eyes. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on by someone fully clothed in his life.

Harry unzips the denim jacket quickly and parts it roughly, palming at Louis’ stomach and chest, squeezing as he leans down and kisses Louis again. Louis moans into his mouth as Harry’s hand slides up under his singlet, covering his hip before moving up to his chest. Louis’ hands are suddenly on him too, rubbing up over his shoulders before dropping lower, his fingers digging into Harry’s hips as he curls his legs more tightly around Harry’s ass, drawing him closer.

Their tongues are twined together and Harry’s so in the moment, he barely realises he’s shoved a hand down Louis pants and underwear to cup his dick until Louis seizes up completely. Harry breaks the kiss in horror.

“Louis, I’m so sorry I-“

Louis covers Harry’s mouth with his hand and Harry muffles “touched you without asking” into his palm.

“Don’t apologise,” Louis growls, rocking himself into Harry’s hand with fervour.

Harry’s eyes widen and Louis removes his hand.

“Oh,” he says stupidly….”sorry.”

Louis rolls his eyes and then Harry realising his mistake, giggles. Louis furrows his brow determinedly but his eyes are teeming with fondness. He pulls Harry to him with a sharp tug on his curls and a frustrated “pathetic Harold” belying his own exasperation by kissing Harry more urgently. Harry slides his hand out of Louis’ pants and much to his delight, Louis whines in protest.

“Just want to get you naked,” Harry promises with gleaming eyes, sliding down Louis’ body, dropping kisses to his chest until he gets to his pants.

“Hurry,” Louis pants.

So Harry rips the pants and underwear down in one go, throwing them aside before making quick work of the rest of Louis’ clothes. Harry stares down at the picture before him. Louis naked and wanton, his cock semi hard, his hair slightly mussed from Harry’s errant fingers. Harry runs his hands from the base of Louis’ ankles all the way up to his thighs, spreading out his fingers and squeezing the skin. Louis tugs on his hair and when he looks up, there’s a remarkable wild look in that ocean blue, like a firecracker about to ignite. His breaths are coming short and fast and if this is how he reacts to a simple touch and an appreciative look, Harry can’t wait for what comes next.

“Harry,” Louis says with strain, “please.”

“Please what?” Harry asks, perfectly coy.

“Kiss me. Touch me. Anything. Just…please.”

The desperate edge in his voice goes straight to Harry’s cock, and his hands slip up and around Louis thighs to squeeze his perfect bum. Louis gasps.

“I was simply admiring you,” Harry explains with a dimpled, soft smile, “you’re lovely.”

Louis makes grabby hands.

“What Lou? What do you want?”

“You,” Louis says with heated eyes, “clothes…off. Please.”

So Harry shucks off the rest of his clothes while Louis burns him up with his eyes. Then Harry straddles Louis’ body pulling Louis’ legs up so that their bent at the knee and then sits back on Louis so that his dick brushes in between Harry’s bum cheeks.

“ugnf,” is Louis’ only proclamation as he closes his eyes at the sensation.

Harry grins, pressing gently down on Louis’ abs and rocking slowly back and forth, luxuriating in Louis’ quiet gasps of pleasure every time his tip glides past Harry’s hole. Eventually Harry feels Louis thicken beyond measure so he gets between Louis’ legs, parting them without much effort. His whole body has gone weak and pliant under Harry’s ministrations.

Harry’s determined to break Louis so he lowers his lips to his cock and just breathes hot air along his length, gliding up and down twice before Louis groans and voices his protest.

“Harry.”

“Something the matter Lou?” Harry asks, reaching out to trace his length with the tip of his pinkie.

Louis’ hips rock up, trying to gain more but there’s nothing to rock into and he falls back down with a frustrated sigh.

“Touch me,” he begs, “please.”

Harry gently encircles the very tip with his hand and Louis’ hips fly up immediately, rocking into Harry’s fist. Harry pushes him back down with a firm palm against his abdomen.

“Not yet,” Harry warns.

There’s another disgruntled noise. Harry decides to be a little kinder. He lowers his mouth over Louis, closing his lips against the thick member before sliding quickly down to the base. Louis’ hand reaches out to pull at Harry’s hair, the other fisted tightly in his sleeping bag.

“Holy shit fuck,” he swears, “holy mother of-“

Harry begins to slide back up and Louis’ speech cuts off completely as his blue eyes close and his hips jump a little before he manages to control it. Then Harry pulls off completely and Louis’ eyes open again, so damn hungry that Harry feels his dick leaking pre come at the very sight of them.

“Harry,” Louis says roughly, raggedly.

“I’m guessing no one’s ever-“

“No. Never.”

“I want you to fuck my mouth now,” Harry says simply.

Louis’ eyes bulge.

“You want…what?”

Harry doesn’t respond, just covers Louis’ throbbing dick with his mouth again and then switches between tightening and loosening his lips, causing a hot exhalation of air to pass over Louis’ cock as he moves down. He waits for it. Just moving up and down until he feels Louis’ hand grip his hair tight as anything as his hips start to buck up desperately. Harry barely hears the half possessed cry of “Harry, yes” because he’s so concentrated on his task and so very turned on. He ghosts a hand over his own cock as Louis rocks up into his mouth, crying out all sorts of expletives.

“I’m going to-aghf, oh fuck…Harry, I’m going to-“

Louis’ speech dies on his lips as he rocks up and his tip hits the base of Harry’s throat. Harry watches with rapture as his pupils roll slightly, his hips pump erratically and then he seizes, shooting a hot stream of come into Harry’s mouth. When Harry pulls off, he cups Louis’ hips and trails his mouth up from Louis’ snail trail to the base of his jaw, mouthing around the area hungrily before Louis tilts his head down and meets his mouth in a gentle kiss.

“Harry,” he sighs, with half lidded eyes.

“You’ve said that a lot,” Harry comments with a grin.

“You’re my new favourite expletive,” Louis sighs back, opening his eyes wider and smiling contentedly.

Harry smooths his hand across Louis’ lovely abdominals and then reaches up to rake it through his messy hair.

“So lovely,” Harry says lowly, looking into Louis’ dazed blue eyes.

Then, he starts to sing.

“Isn’t he lovely, isn’t he wonderful?” He croons.

Louis tugs Harry down by the back of his neck so their eye to eye, their foreheads brushing.

“You know you’re singing that wrong right? It’s about a baby girl.”

Harry’s too enchanted by everything Louis says to care that he’s being teased. His palm shapes itself around the curve of Louis’ cheek, his thumb pressed to his favourite spot right in the centre of his cheekbone that always curves when he smiles beneath Harry’s touch.

“I’m well aware. Stevie gave me permission,” Harry informs him with a wink.

Louis just shakes his head and pulls him down into another long, bruising kiss.

“I want you to fuck me,” Louis says against his lips, eyes all hazed with lust, despite the fact that he’s quite possibly already spent.

Harry groans.

“You’re going to kill me if you say things like that.”

Louis turns Harry’s head and whispers in his ear.

“I want you to wreck me,” he says, with just the right sexy, husky tone that has Harry flipping him over without a moment’s notice and parting his cheeks eagerly.

Harry’s finger skims across Louis’ hole and Louis’ cheeks tighten in response, clenching and trapping Harry’s finger there. Harry pulls it away with a laugh but then glides a hand across his ass, squeezing as he pleases.

“Has anybody ever told you, you’ve got a great bum?” Harry sighs, adoring.

Louis giggles into the pillow.

“No.”

“Well…you've got a great bum Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, bending over his new prized possession to plant a wet kiss over the curve.

Then he realises he’s got one obstacle to exploring said body part.

“Shit, I've got no lube,” Harry confesses, with his hands squeezing Louis’ bum, looking at it wistfully.

Harry doesn't hear the words that Louis mumbles rather quietly into his pillow.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Louis raises his head rather slowly and turns to look back at Harry with colour in his cheeks.

“You've got a tongue,” he says rather meaningfully.

Harry’s eyes pop and his dick leaks some more.

“I mean,” Louis panics, eyes traveling across Harry’s nervously, “if you don’t want to…if you've never…because I've never…I just thought…”

“Louis,” Harry interrupts his rambling, squeezing his bum…because he can, “I haven’t before but I’d love to. For you. With you. Yes…I’d….I want to.”

Now Louis realises just how desperate Harry is for it and he glows, grinning from ear to ear as he drops his head back down. Harry considers the masterpiece before him, crooking his fingers around Louis’ bum and clenching the olive skin there before bending over and diving straight in, no hesitation, his tongue darting out to trace the puckered skin which immediately tries to close up. It’s tight but Harry’s tongue breaches and as he swipes the skin inside, Louis pushes back on his face immediately with another mumbled “fucking hell Harry.”

Harry takes that as a good sign and delves deeper, fingers digging into the skin on the outside as he lets his tongue swirl around the inside. When Louis’ starts to push violently back against him, Harry pulls out and without warning, thrusts a finger inside. Louis cries out. Harry reaches around and grasps Louis’ now semi-hard cock and ghosts his hand over it as he plunges his finger deeper, leaving his prostate untouched, just loosening him up. Eventually Harry stops moving his finger and Louis wastes no time fucking himself back onto it with little pushes of his beautifully shaped hips. The view is like no other and Harry can’t help but insert another finger, taking his hand from Louis’ dick in order to fist across his own which stands to attention.

When Harry can feel that Louis’ loose enough, he pulls his fingers away and Louis rolls over, bending his knees, looking primed and waiting.

“Do you need me to-“

Louis cuts off as he cops an eyeful of Harry’s full erection.

“Oh. You’re already-“

“Rock hard,” Harry finishes, leaning down to brush his lips against Louis’, “impossible not to be, watching you move on my finger.”

Louis blushes a little at this and Harry strokes his cheek, completely endeared.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen in my life.”

“Really?” Louis asks in a tiny voice.

“Really,” Harry assures him, kissing him again.

“I-I don’t have a condom either,” Harry stutters his realisation, eyebrows furrowing.

Louis reaches up with a lazy arm to trace their tension.

“I’m clean obviously,” he says and then his expression darkens, “aren't you?”

Harry catches his hand before he can pull it away, smoothing a thumb across the center of his tiny palm.

“No I am,” Harry assures him, his restless green eyes darting every which way to avoid Louis, “it’s just….it’s very intimate and I wasn't sure if you wanted-“

“I want you. With nothing in between. Please….fuck me Harry,” Louis begs, curling his hand around Harry’s, “show me I’m yours.”

Those last four words have Harry’s eyes filling with tears. There’s so much feeling coursing through him right now that he’s surprised his dick hasn’t softened completely in the meantime but when he lets his eyes rake over Louis’ naked body, he knows why it hasn’t. He kisses Louis’ hand to express what he can’t in words, lets his hand fall and then positions himself in between Louis legs, his own legs stretched outwards, his arms resting either side of Louis’ head as he slowly lowers himself down.

Harry’s worried though. Louis may have taken his fingers with ease but he’s very tight and Harry’s dick is…well it’s not a little thing….not at all. So when he breaches Louis’ entrance and Louis lets out a startled “mnff,” his hips still immediately even as his eyes close at the way Louis’ walls tighten around him.

“Lou, are you okay?” He asks, panicked.

Louis’ eyes fly open and they’ve gone so dark, the blue almost completely swallowed up by the dark of his pupils.

“I’m fine. Please…move,” he begs.

Harry starts slow anyway, rocking into Louis carefully and not letting his dick slide the whole way in yet. Louis breathes quicker now and then his hand clutches the back of Harry’s elbow.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispers with eyes edged in hysteria.

“Louis, I-“

“Harry are you really going to argue with me while you’re inside me?”

That’s all it takes. The words “inside me.” Harry’s hips jolt forward of their own accord and his cock bottoms out and when he flexes his hips just that bit more, it rocks up into Louis’ prostate. Louis’ whole body stiffens and raises slightly off the floor of the tent.

“What was that?” He cries out as Harry pulls back slightly.

“Your prostate,” Harry responds with a smirk, “feel good love?”

Apparently Louis doesn’t like being teased though because he wraps his legs around Harry, digging his heels into Harry’s bum and then pulls him down by the shoulders so their chest to chest, Harry’s arms collapsing as Louis thrusts his tongue violently into his mouth. Harry can’t control himself now and it seems that’s exactly what Louis wanted.

Louis meets every deep thrust with a little push of his own hips, using his feet on Harry’s ass to gain traction. It’s intoxicating and they moan into each other’s mouths, Harry every time Louis’ walls tighten against him and Louis every time Harry’s cock arcs up to prod his prostate. Harry’s rhythm turns erratic and his hands get lost in Louis’ hair as he pumps into him.

“So good,” Louis moans, tossing his head a little, “in me.”

Harry moans right back, nipping at Louis’ lips.

“Lou,” he cries, almost as if in pain, “I think I’m going to…I need to pull out or I’m going to come inside you.”

Apparently this is too much for Louis as his eyes roll back completely and his fingers tighten around Harry’s shoulders. He lets out an almighty strangled noise as a jet stream of come shoots out and up Harry’s stomach. His walls convulse around Harry and that’s what does it. There’s no time to pull out because Harry is coming deep inside Louis, his hips rocking up into the boy unconsciously, spurting more and more fluid and hitting Louis’ prostate each time. Louis gasps in time. Eventually Harry’s hips cease their rapid movement and he feels completely empty as he pulls his softening cock from Louis.

“My god,” Louis says, pulling Harry into a passionate kiss.

It quickly turns languid and lazy as Harry scrambles up to rest beside Louis, grasping his face weakly. Then, Harry reaches across to his pack and pulls a face washer from it, using it to wipe down his own stomach.

“Sorry,” Louis says with a bitten lip.

Harry grins and then echoes Louis’ earlier sentiment.

“Don’t apologise.”

When Harry’s done, Louis pulls him back down and scoots closer to him so they’re both lying on their sides facing each other. Louis sifts one hand through his curls peaceably. Harry himself just strokes the contented creases beside Louis’ eyes with true admiration.

“Besides…I’m the animal who couldn’t control himself and came inside you.” Harry says with a sigh.

Louis touches his lips to Harry’s with a strangely euphoric smile.

“I wanted you to.”

“Of course you did,” Harry growls, gripping Louis’ bum to drag him even closer, “you truly are my kryptonite.”

Louis glows at this and then makes Harry’s heart swell to ten times its usual size as he drapes a leg across his waist and cups the back of his neck. The words he sings are whispered with such an unconsciously happy smile, it makes Harry weak.

“Boy, I’m so happy. We have been heaven blessed.”


	15. Chapter 15

_Day Twenty Five_

Harry’s ears are filled with a low buzz when he awakens that sounds a lot like a cat hissing. As he scrubs a hand over his face, opening his eyes and sitting up, his senses sharpen and the buzz turns into words. He spies Louis sitting cross legged, facing the side of the tent, whispering furiously into his phone.

“No mum,” Louis pauses as Jay says something Harry can’t hear, “…yes of course I’m coming home for Christmas tomorrow.”

Oh, Harry realises with a little glimmer of sadness, it’s Christmas Eve. Don’t get him wrong…he’s not usually so miserable about this time of the year. It’s just that each year, all the kids and mediators go home to their families and while that would usually be Harry too, this year is the exception. Anne, Robin and Gemma decided to go holidaying in the Bahamas, the traitors. Okay….so if he’s being honest, they had begged him to skip camp and come with them but he had to tell them no. He’d been excited to join a new camp and thank god, he hadn’t skipped out on it. Otherwise he’d never have met the chestnut haired, blue eyed boy he’s currently itching to hold in his arms.

“I’m not telling anybody,” Louis hisses now, “It’s my choice and just because he’s….” Louis trails off, picking at the seam of the grey threadbare bottoms he’s donned in which make Harry pout, protesting his semi clothed state, “he’s my…..I don’t know….it doesn’t mean I have to tell him.”

Harry’s ears perk up suddenly wondering if Louis’ discussing him. There’s a shrill buzz now that makes Harry grin because he can tell Louis’ being scolded and so he should be if he’s keeping things from Harry. As for stumbling over what Harry means to him…well, Harry will save worrying about that for later. For now, he lies back down, pulling Louis’ unzipped sleeping bag up under his chin

“I’m not telling him and that’s final,” Louis says, adamantly, “now go give the twins a kiss for me.”

There’s another pause as Jay responds.

“The babies of course. Why would I be talking about the two pre-adolescent girls who made me watch all three of the high school musical movies with them before I left? Twice. Dais started calling me Troy and Phe wanted to know when I’m going to meet my Gabriella,” Louis complains, completely exasperated.

It makes Harry giggle which he tries to stifle in the curve of his hand, not wanting Louis to know he was eavesdropping. It’s too late though. Louis turns himself around to face Harry and looks down at him with annoyance but then as Jay says something, he drops his hand to Harry’s cheek and strokes the skin until it forms a dimple.

“Oh he’s way fitter than Gabriella mum,” Louis says into the phone, winking as he drags Harry’s bottom lip down with his thumb, “better singer too.”

“NO you can’t speak to him!” Louis says, suddenly raising his voice, although his blue eyes still appear translucent with happiness.

“Why can’t I speak to Jay?” Harry mouths, pouting as he reaches up and moulds his hand around Louis’ bare waist, pleading with bleary, green eyes.

Louis’ hand twitches on the phone for a minute and his hand comes down to rest atop Harry’s on his body but then with a  hurried “I love you mum don’t be angry see you tomorrow,” he hangs it up and throws it backward onto his bag.

“Louis,” Harry growls, “she wanted to speak to me.”

Louis lifts the sleeping bag and slides down next to Harry, reaching around to grip his bum as his lips slam down against Harry’s.

“Well I wanted to kiss you and my needs come first,” Louis says with a self-satisfied smirk.

Harry pushes two fingers against Louis’ mouth to keep him from coming back for more.

“No. No more kisses until you tell me what that was all about. What are you keeping from me?”

“Harry,” Louis whines low in his throat, his fingers digging into Harry’s bum now, “that’s not fair.”

Harry slips his own hand down Louis’ pants, squeezing his cock briefly which makes Louis gasp before reaching around to grab hold of his ass tightly.

“No,” Harry says with hard green eyes, “what’s not fair is that you’ll let me inside you but you won’t let me _inside_ you.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“That makes no sense Harold. Honestly love, you just said the same thing twice.”

“You know what I meant,” Harry snaps, “you’ll let me come inside you but you won’t be honest with me about what’s going on with you. I thought we were past keeping secrets.”

“We are,” Louis says insistently, combing a gentle hand through Harry’s curls which are in complete disarray, “this isn’t anything important. I promise.”

Harry knocks it away.

“Clearly we’re not,” he says, wriggling up and away from Louis, “I don’t care how important you think it is, if it’s worth keeping from me, it’s definitely something I’d want to know.”

Harry pulls on a pair of his own threadbare pants and a jumper and then starts to unzip the tent.

“Harry,” Louis croaks, reaching out for him blindly.

Harry crawls back over to him for a moment, watching Louis’ eyes flutter with contentment as he presses their mouths together briefly. Then he resumes his former position.

“Where are you going?” Louis asks weakly.

“To have breakfast. Come join me when you decide that I’m worth being honest with.”

“Harry, you are-“

Harry doesn’t listen to the protests, he just crawls out of the tent leaving a saddened Louis behind him. Of course he hadn’t wanted to upset him. He’d really only wanted to hold Louis in his arms for a couple of hours and share messy kisses or maybe go down on him. But he can’t be with Louis like there’s no barriers between them when he knows that there still are. If Louis’ still comfortable keeping things from him then he’s not in the same place Harry is. He clearly doesn’t feel this need to forget the rest of the world and just be together, skin to skin, heart to heart.

Suffice to say, Harry stomps his way up to their table in the centre with no food and a dour look on his face. All the boys frown when he sits down.

“You look awful mate,” Zayn says instantly.

“I’m guessing yesterday didn’t go so well?” Liam asks, with a touch more gentleness, “didn’t see you for the rest of the day so we assumed things either went brilliantly or the opposite. I guess we have our answer.”

“It went wonderfully actually,” Harry says quietly, looking around at his friends, feeling completely lost all of a sudden.

Why does Louis have this power over him? He’s just one boy resisting Harry’s widely recognised ability to soften and break down people’s walls. Why does it bother him so? He cares for Louis more than he’d planned to, he knows but this feeling is something else altogether. It’s like sea sickness in his stomach and the kind of chest cramps you probably get before a heart attack. It stings.

“Then why are you such a sad sack?” Niall asks, looking a bit more edgy today in a tight white t-shirt, black jacket and equally dark jeans that are ripped at the knees.

“Because he’s bloody keeping something from me,” Harry complains, “and I’m tired of being shut out. I know that’s what he does and why the hell should I be any different from anybody else but I thought….I mean, the past few days…the past week…he made me feel like I was.”

Liam tilts his head sympathetically, his face all clenched up like a doctor about to tell someone they have cancer. He reaches over and pats Harry’s hands where they sit folded upon the bench.

“I’m sure he’ll come clean when he’s ready Harry,” he says softly.

Harry’s head is in his hands now.

“I’m just worried,” he admits, “because now I know there was more to his past than he originally told me and if this is about that too…I mean, what if there’s something really wrong? He said it wasn’t important…but he would say that, wouldn’t he?”

Niall’s hand is on his shoulder now, squeezing just to reassure him.

“Lads, mind if I talk to Harry alone?” Niall asks Liam and Zayn.

Harry keeps his head in his hands, barely interested.

“Yeah…uh, we were just going to go shower,” Zayn agrees and Harry hears the accompanying sound of the two boys standing and taking their unfinished breakfast with them.

Once he hears their footsteps trail away, he raises his head slightly to look at Niall.

“Probably going to have sex in the shower,” Niall says with a grin, “I figure that’s where they get their rocks off since they don’t share a tent…and even if they did…”

“Even if they did?” Harry prompts with a raised eyebrow.

“Those are about the thinnest walls in existence,” Niall finishes, looking at Harry with a certain amount of expectation.

“Well if you’re not too-“

“I KNEW IT,” Niall bursts out, attracting the attention of half of the centre.

Harry just shakes his head, raising his eyes to the heavens.

“You had sex with ‘im yesterday didn’t ya?”

“Is that why you wanted to get me alone?” Harry asks, exasperated.

“Well…” Niall’s grin widens, “yes and no. I also wanted to tell you my theory and I figured you wouldn’t want Zayn there. He’d pester you with it relentlessly.”

Harry turns fully to face Niall with confusion written all over his face.

“Theory? Theory of what?”

“A theory to explain why you look like that time you dragged me to that posh, snobby boutique and then spent the whole way home in a state because they didn’t have any women’s jeans left. A theory to explain why you look like someone took a shit in your fedora simply because the guy you’ve just slept with has a small secret.”

Harry frowns at the description but sighs his consent anyway.

“Enlighten me then.”

“You’re in love with ‘im.”

“Excuse me?” Harry says slowly, eyes blown wide.

With all the casualness in the world, Niall stuffs two whole fried eggs in his mouth and says, with flecks flying out and hitting Harry,

“you’re fukargh ir lobe with bin.”

Harry gets the message. You’re fucking in love with him.

“I am not,” he says, heat rising up the back of his neck as the words rotate around his suddenly buzzing brain, “we’ve only just…consummated our….whatever it is. We’re not properly together and it’s not even been a month yet. It would be completely ridiculous. Crazy. It’s not as if he’s even ready for- I’m not in love with him!”

Niall’s choking slightly on his food as he laughs and Harry thumps a hand over his back to help stop the choking. So maybe he hits a little harder than necessary but…safety first. He’s just making sure it all goes down the right way.

“H,” Niall wheezes, once he’s successfully swallowed, “I’ve never seen you so defensive in my life. You’re all red in the face. Look mate…” Niall’s smile dims (only by half) as he gets down to the serious stuff, “you know that camp isn’t like regular life. You’ve been in close quarters this whole time. He’s told you things he hasn’t told anybody else, right? And maybe you’ve even done the same.”

Harry thinks back to telling Louis about his belief in love and wanting to find that special something. So yes he’s definitely shown Louis sides of himself that he wouldn’t share with just anybody but so what?

“Plus,” Niall continues, “being around you two is like watching two magnets trying not to stick together. You’re trying not to admit what’s inside you, trying not to feel it…the lurrrrve that is,” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s immaturity, “and he’s trying not to let you too far in and you’re both failing miserably. God H, you don’t know whether he’s ready or not until you tell him. Look mate, I think I know you pretty well and let me tell you….your eyes…no, actually your whole face…when you look at him…it’s like you’re seeing all the reasons your life only ever felt ordinary and not extraordinary like you wanted. It’s like the ‘extra’ is written all over his face.”

It’s rather poetic for Niall and is in fact the perfect description of the way Louis makes him feel. Louis has brought something to Harry’s life that was missing. Some undiscovered beauty that he needed to touch, to see into just to know it existed. Louis told Harry that he showed him why he should want to live but Louis did much the same for him. His life was perhaps happier than Louis’ beforehand, it may be said but he wasn’t in love with it. He wasn’t fulfilled. Yet as powerful as Louis’ presence in his life is, as much as Niall’s verbalisation of it disarms him, it doesn’t change his mind. He can’t be in love. He really can’t.

“I-that’s…that’s probably true,” Harry concedes, “but that doesn’t mean I love him.”

“Fine H,” Niall gives in with a sigh, focusing on his breakfast now, “I’ll let you live in denial a little longer but just know that I see the way you two anchor each other and it makes me think you know. Maybe I should get out there and sail the seven seas meself. Captain Niall,” he salutes the air in front of him theatrically, “and his favourite ship, casting a wide net for potential partners,” Niall turns to grin dopily at Harry now, “you know what they say H, plenty of fish in the sea right?”

Niall waits with shining white teeth and he doesn’t have to wait long. Harry falls upon his shoulder, dissolving into laughter.

“That’s it Haz,” Niall says, petting his hair, “knew some terrible nautical puns could get you laughing.”

That’s when Louis appears, sitting down across from them with a wary expression and two bowls. He pushes one toward Harry with tentative fingers as if afraid Harry will castigate him for it and guilt swells in Harry’s chest.

“Thank you,” Harry says, tugging the bowl close to himself.

Louis just nods silently and begins to eat his own breakfast. So, no divulging of secrets. Harry sighs.

“Harry!”

Harry looks up from glaring at his cereal to Paul who looks mighty puffed.

“Been running about the tents and the bathroom looking for you. Got someone who wants to speak to you,” he huffs, holding his phone out.

Louis’ head snaps up at this and his eyes go wide with horror. Harry snatches the phone from Paul, grabbing it just before Louis’ hand darts out to do the same.

“Jay,” he says immediately, smiling triumphantly at Louis who crosses his arms petulantly.

“Harry love!”

She greets him just the same as last time and it makes Harry’s dimples deepen.

“I presume you have something to tell me,” he says, ignoring Louis’ glower.

“Yes, yes,” she says with enthusiasm, “it’s Louis’ birthday today! He’s nineteen.”

It’s not what Harry was expecting at all. His laugh booms from deep in his chest because he’s so damn relieved. It suddenly seems just like Louis to cover something like this up. Speaking of which, Louis’ currently looking at him like he regrets bringing him breakfast and would like to smash the bowl against the floor.

“ _Happy birthday boo_ ” Harry mouths at him, grinning as Louis digs his spoon viciously into his cereal in response.

“Is he just?” Harry says to Jay, “Because right now he’s behaving like a grumpy, little toddler.”

There’s the sound of shoes scuffing against the ground under the table and then Niall lets out an almighty yell of, “OW TOMMO THAT’S MY FOOT.” Harry’s laugh peels out of him as Louis proceeds to apologise profusely for his ill directed kick.

“Sounds like chaos on your end,” Jay observes, “I’m not surprised he’s throwing a tantrum. He hates fuss on his birthday…you know, ever since Elliot. Won’t even let me get him two sets of presents for Christmas and his birthday. Just…don’t let him get away with it honey. Something tells me if you ask him nicely, he might just agree.”

Harry twists his mouth, unsure, as he meets Louis’ sullen look.

“I dunno Jay. He looks like he’d like to murder the both of us right now.”

Louis nods his agreement.

“I’ve gotta go love…the twins are screaming bloody murder but you just give my boo a kiss from me and make sure he has a good day.”

“I will,” Harry vows.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah Jay?”

“Thank you for being patient with him.”

“He’s worth it,” Harry says, letting all his fondness colour his tone as he hangs up.

After returning Paul’s phone, Harry sits back down across from Louis, who looks a lot less hateful now.

“I’m worth it?” He asks, eyes tracing Harry’s face, “What does that mean?”

“That I am going to make this day special for you because you deserve it,” Harry says with determination, “and you’re going to let me…especially if you want to have birthday sex in your birthday suit.”

Niall says something like “gag fest” underneath his breath as he studiously ignores them. Louis rolls his eyes at Harry’s terrible sense of humour. However, his feet find Harry’s beneath the table and there’s a lightness in his blue eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Only if I’m part of whatever you organise,” Louis says, pointing a warning finger at Harry, “I’ll help….okay?  And no birthday presents. Please.”

Harry tilts his head considering and then nods, already planning his loophole.

“Fine. Deal,” he agrees and then smiles winningly into Louis’ eyes, “thank you babe.”

Louis brushes his fringe to the side with his hand, trying to cover the exceptionally pleased smile bubbling to the surface in response to that word. Harry sees it anyway and stretches across the table to grab hold of Louis’ hand, bending his head to kiss the centre of his palm.

“Happy birthday lovely Louis,” Harry says quietly, harking back to their experiment with the cake.

It makes Louis’ eyes crease up at the sides, a happy sheen to them as his foot rubs tenderly over Harry’s ankle. So Harry regrets nothing.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding slightly overwhelmed.

Of course that’s when Niall butts in with a “when are you guys going to stop making goo goo eyes at each other so I can look up from my plate?”

….

When Harry clicks play on the song on his phone, Louis’ climbing a ladder to string up the white lights that Harry bought from the store, between the trees around the bonfire. Liam and Zayn are stringing up some on the opposite side and Niall’s towing out bags of marshmallows and drinks from the centre. The sun is setting behind Louis’ head and he looks so wonderful in the clothes Harry begged him to wear, the cobalt blue collared shirt and red braces setting off his lovely tan perfectly, with matching black trousers shaping his bum.

“I don’t understand why I have to dress up too,” Louis had complained as Harry sifted through his bag, waiting for something to catch his eye.

Harry had adorned himself in tight trousers, a white shirt and a little black bow tie that Louis had played with earlier while kissing him. He’d nosed along Harry’s collar bones immediately afterward as he inhaled his cologne, not bothering to hide how much he liked it. “You smell like someone I want to have sex with at least twice today,” he’d said, with a promise in his tone.

“Because it’s your birthday!” Harry exclaimed, as he dug through Louis’ bag hours later.

Louis tugged on the side of his shirt.

“I think you’re looking fit enough for the both of us,” he commented, eyes raking over Harry’s body with a heady mix of approval and desire.

Harry turned Louis around and pulled him back against his chest, letting his hand slip up Louis’ shirt to rove around his stomach, before dipping down into his pants.

“Well, Lou,” Harry whispered huskily in his ear as he covered his dick, “I’d much rather you naked…but the other boys will be there too. So put your fine ass in some fine trousers and let’s go start setting up.”

It’s just the five of them tonight, Harry having begged Paul to contain the rest of the mediators to the centre. He knew Louis didn’t want a big fuss and Harry was inclined to grant him his birthday wish…at least in part. Louis climbs down the ladder now, crossing the distance between them with a wry smile.

“Dancing in the moonlight…really babe?” Louis questions him, plucking Harry’s phone from his hand and placing it on the plastic chair beside him.

He brings Harry’s arms up around his neck and then sways his hips a little, his smile turning coy. Bloody tease. Harry’s hands glide down his sides desperately, clinging to his hips and swinging them more vigorously.

“It’s a supernatural delight,” Harry sings, throwing his curly head back, as if singing to the rising moon.

Louis giggles and tugs on his curls to bring him back, pushing up on his feet to kiss Harry into silence.

“Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight,” Louis sings, as he breaks away grinning.

Harry’s answering smile is completely adoring. Then Niall interrupts, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him away.

“Hey!” Louis and Harry protest at the same time.

Niall brings their conjoined hands up and starts to dance with him. Harry throws back his head again with a delighted laugh, stepping sideways as Niall does. When he looks back to Louis, Zayn’s trying to uncross his arms as he stares down Niall, his hair gelled perfectly atop his head. He’s stunning, his angry, blue eyes glittering in the onset of darkness. Finally, Louis gives in and dances with Zayn, eyeing Harry over his shoulder the whole time, a world of emotion in his eyes. Harry laps up every moment. He’s never felt this intoxicated without alcohol before.

Eventually Louis guides Zayn into Liam’s arms and comes to stand beside Harry and Niall who are singing the lyrics of chasing cars quite loudly and purposely off key at each other.

“Niall…would you kindly step aside. Otherwise I’m going to have to go make that sign to hang around Harry’s neck,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes innocently, the picture of politeness.

Niall claps a hand over his shoulder and laughs heartily as he lets Harry go and steps away.

“He’s all yours mate.”

As Louis takes the lead, he looks up at Harry with a quirk of his fine lips and a dazzling kind of happiness in his eyes.

“Hear that Harold?” He says, smugness dripping from the curling smile, “all mine.”

Harry brings his lips down, whispers “all yours” just as he brushes his mouth against Louis’ who sighs with pleasure, his hand tightening in Harry’s.

……

“A toast,” Harry raises the can of beer with a slightly warbled smile.

He’s a little bit tipsy. Niall did practically pour the alcohol into his mouth after all. Harry had been a bit put off by the beer. He’s a little embarrassed to admit but he’s that guy that drinks tall fruity cocktails…with an umbrella (because “Nick, look, it looks like someone had a wild resort party and dyed the pool pink and then threw a table umbrella in.” “Harry, you’re pathetic”) when he goes out. However Louis had, had a few and Harry had wanted to keep up so he’d let Niall coerce him. He was older after all. He can get drunk too thank you very much…even on alcohol that tastes like beaver piss.

The other boys raise their drinks now, all except for Louis who simply smiles right into Harry’s eyes through the glare of the fire, looking like someone sculpted his collar bones from stone and painted his eyes with the colour of the ocean when the sun hits it just right.

“To Louis,” Harry shouts and Niall belches a slightly louder, ‘to Tommo,” “who makes us all better people just by existing,” Harry narrows his eyes at Louis who rolls his eyes at the compliment, “and who I think is the most beautiful human on the god damn planet,” Zayn looks slightly offended, Harry pays no mind, “and who deserves the absolute world. Happy birthday darling.”

The ‘darling’ just slips out in his slightly beer hazed state. Everybody freezes for a moment, looking to Louis to see his reaction but Louis’ not looking back at any of them. Only Harry. He marches around the fire and pulls Harry into a steamy kiss, throwing his can away so he can hold him properly, one hand wrapped around his neck pulling his head down and the other grasping the side of his shirt. They kiss until Zayn and Niall start heckling. When they pull away, Louis’ eyes are shining bright and Harry can still read them like he did in the beginning. “I’ll never forget that,” they seem to say.

I love you. The words almost slide right out of Harry’s mouth before he stops them. Fuck. Oh fuck. He loves Louis. He pulls his drink from where it rests around Louis’ back, to his lips and takes a deep pull, squeezing his eyes shut tight. It does nothing. All he sees are eyes that extend for miles. Miles and miles of rolling blue and a mouth that curves without warning, dazzling him every time. Fuck. He sees tiny hands fisted in his shirt and feels soft, pouted lips pushing against his own. Echoes of touches he’s felt before. He recalls silky hair tickling the spaces between his fingers and the needy sounds that emanated from Louis as they made love yesterday. He feels Louis’ tears burned into his skin and the truths of Louis’ soul encased in his heart. Fuck. He’s in love with Louis Tomlinson. All he wanted was to get inside Louis’ walls, now Louis’ inside his own heart. Melting down the walls like hot wax about to set. Like, once it does, there’ll be no scraping him out. Fuck.

When Harry opens his eyes, Louis pulls the drink from his hand and plants it on the chair.

“You okay?” He asks, so touchingly concerned that Harry finds the words trying to eject themselves from his mouth once again.

I love you I love you I love you. It’s right there. He swallows it down, nodding woodenly as Louis pulls him out onto the makeshift grass dance floor, the white lights making his olive skin appear to shimmer. Zayn and Liam are dancing together on the other side of the fire and Niall looks between both couples with a rather fond smile.

“This one goes out to all the lovers on the dance floor!” He calls out, changing the song on Harry’s phone to ‘hero’ by Enrique Iglesias.

“Let me be your hero,” Harry whispers to Louis, perfectly in time with Enrique, his voice roughened by emotion.

They continue to sway then, Louis singing “would you cry if you saw me crying” because it’s a line he used in his journal. Harry drops a kiss to the back of his neck, his heart bursting. He sings the chorus softly to Louis, rocking them from side to side as he buries his hand in the back of Louis’ hair.

“Would you swear that you’ll always be mine?” Harry sings, pulling back slightly to stare intensely at Louis.

Louis doesn’t jump or startle. He looks purely happy, brushing a thumb across the side of Harry’s mouth repeatedly as if mystified by the way it curves beneath his touch every time. The next set of lyrics hits Harry hard though and he gulps, considering how invested he is.

_Am I in too deep?_

_Have I lost my mind?_

_I don’t care._

_You’re here tonight._

There’s a break in the lyrics of the song and Harry looks down at Louis whose eyes are squinted with contentment. There’s no time like the present, Harry thinks, drumming his fingers nervously against Louis’ side.

“I l-“he starts then falters, editing slightly, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Louis stares at him, eyes opening wider now. There are no true signs of unease but there are no signs of happiness either and the longer Louis stares, the more harry convinces himself that he can see the tiny pinpricks of panic forming on his face. He’s going to leave. He’s going to shut me out again, Harry worries.

So he does what any sane man would do after telling someone he loves the truth and getting no response…he pretends like nothing happened and sings the rest of the song into Louis’ ear whose hands comb through his hair with extra tenderness. Harry tries to give himself over to the sensation and the song and not think about the resounding silence. Of course Louis couldn’t say anything. It’s ridiculous to expect something so massive after such a short amount of time and from Louis….the boy with the barriers. Harry’s an idiot.

_Oh I just wanna hold you,_

_I just wanna hold you_

_Oh yeah_

_Am I in too deep?_

_Have I lost my mind?_

_Well I don’t care, you’re here tonight._

_I can be your hero baby,_

_I can kiss away the pain, oh yeah_

_I will stand by you forever_

_You can take my breath away_

_And I can be your hero,_

_I can kiss away the pain,_

_And I will stand by you forever,_

_You can take my breath away,_

_You can take my breath away,_

_I can be your hero._

……

“No, I’ll take him,” Harry whispers savagely.

Liam throws his hands up in a defensive position.

“Just thought you might need some help.”

Louis’ currently curled up in a plastic chair, his head lolling against his shoulder, nursing a beer between his bent legs and breathing softly in sleep. Harry had forced him into the chair while he and the other lads cleaned up the discarded beer cans and took down the lights. When they’d finally finished, Harry and Liam found him like this, all tuckered out from drinking and dancing into the early hours of morning.

Harry proffers Liam a long look.

“He weighs like, nothing and I’ve carried him before,” he reminds him.

“You could just wake him,” Niall suggests from behind his shoulder.

“No,” Harry whispers, chucking the beer into the waste bin behind him before gathering Louis in his arms and hoisting him up a little higher as he looks down at him, so peaceful, “just look at him.”

Zayn leans over the other three boys now with a grin.

“He is a rather peaceful sleeper.”

“He’s beautiful,” Harry agrees, cooing slightly.

“Told you,” Niall says, looking over at Harry with a smug grin and arched eyebrows.

“Told him what?” Liam and Zayn ask at the same time.

“That I’m in love with Louis,” Harry says quietly, rolling his eyes as Liam gasps dramatically, “and yes you were right, my wise ass leprechaun of a best friend. Rub it in my face, why don’t you?”

“Just take him to bed,” Niall grins, “maybe when he wakes tomorrow, you can give him a belated birthday blowie and then tell him you love him.”

Harry just turns and starts walking away, raising one hand in a backwards wave. He chooses quite purposely not to mention the fact that he’s already told Louis and got no response. Harry deposits Louis underneath his own sleeping bag instead of Louis’, pulling off his dirty TOMS and chucking them into the corner. Then he pulls away his own clothes so he’s got only his briefs on. After Harry climbs in, Louis, in his sleep, tucks an arm around his waist and buries his face in the back of his shoulder, spooning him from behind. Harry tries not to melt all over the tent.

Except, then-

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Louis says, ever so softly.

Harry freezes and he feels Louis freeze too. Apparently not as asleep as Harry thought…or maybe he was half asleep and didn’t mean to say it out loud. Either way, he called Harry….sweetheart and Harry’s fingers are lifting Louis’ where they rest against his stomach and playing with them now as he tries not to tear up. I love you I love you I love you.

“Goodnight,” Harry responds, voice hoarse.

He thinks Louis’ pretending not to hear him until he feels the soft, cool press of Louis’ mouth against his shoulder, kissing him goodnight. _Goodnight sweetheart._ Harry replays it in his head until his eyes close against his will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fluff :) Let me know. Sorry about the shortness but the next chapter is longer so forgive me :) Plus we're nearing the end! But yeah, next chapter is like a dollop of cuteness/fluff with a side of angst.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :) Let me know as always x  
> Only one more chapter and the epilogue to go!

_Day Twenty Six_

 

“Harry. Harold. Harold…” there’s a pause in the insistent whispering,” Edward, I think you mentioned it was Edward? Styles. Please get your lazy ass up this instant.”

 

Harry’s eyes open to Louis straddling his chest, holding a plate overflowing with fried food. Harry can smell the crisp scent of fresh bacon and it makes his stomach rumble. Louis stretches his arm backward to pat it.

 

“There, there Harry’s tummy….I’m about to take care of you.”

 

Harry raises an eyebrow, clutching Louis’ hips as he raises himself into a sitting position, pulling Louis and the plate he’s holding more comfortably into his lap.

 

“Merry Christmas Harry,” Louis says, going in for a kiss.

 

Harry pushes on his mouth to halt him.

 

“Christmas. Shit I forgot,” Harry shakes his head and then looks up at Louis with confusion, “what’s the time?”

 

“Ten.”

 

“Louis,” Harry exclaims, squeezing Louis’ sides, “what are you still doing here?! Jay’s expecting you.”

 

Louis tilts his head, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he notes Harry’s frantic state and then lets his eyes drop to his sculpted, bare chest. He brushes a hand down the centre of Harry’s chest with a bitten lip.

 

“Stop that,” Harry scolds, “you have to go! Why didn’t you wake me earlier? I suppose everybody’s already gone.”

 

Harry’s pouting now, as he grumbles and Louis pulls a hand through his messy curls, looking undecided as to whether he’d rather kiss Harry’s brimming frustration away or manhandle him some more.

 

“Love,” Louis soothes, raking his hand over Harry’s scalp so tenderly, it should be damn criminal, “you needed to sleep. Us four lads agreed. Besides, you didn’t wake me last night when I fell asleep, did you? Carried me all the way here like a proper white knight.”

 

Harry’s eyes pop at Louis’ casual mention of last night.  _Goodnight sweetheart._ Then Louis starts too, his hand pausing in Harry’s hair as he seems to realise what he brought attention to. He rapidly fills the awkward silence with words.

 

“Niall just left a few minutes before you woke up….but not before telling me that your family’s not even in the country. Harry,” Louis says reproachfully, “you should have told me. There was no way I was leaving you to your own devices on Christmas. What were you planning to do really? Watch love actually on repeat all day?”

 

“I-“

 

Louis covers Harry’s mouth and waits until he stops trying to talk to pull his hands away.

 

“You’re not spending Christmas alone. You’re coming home with me. Okay?”

 

“Louis,” Harry protests, startled into breathlessness, “I can’t crash your Christmas. Your family doesn’t even know me…”

 

“My mum loves you already Haz,” Louis assures him, “and the rest will too, I know it. We’re going there for dinner and then you’re staying with me and we’ll drive back together tomorrow.”

 

“Dinner?”

 

“We’ve got a few places to go first,” Louis explains, in a tone that suggests this should somehow be obvious to Harry.

 

“And Jay’s okay with that?” Harry asks, with a raised eyebrow.

 

Louis bops him on the nose as though he can’t help himself.

 

“She suggested it actually. Thought I should show you around Donny. I came up with the itinerary though.”

 

“I’m in,” Harry says with a broad grin, touched that Louis would want to spend the holiday with him, “…where are we going?”

 

“You’ll see,” Louis says, with eyes steeped in secrecy.

 

Harry sighs his defeat and then Louis lifts the plate up.

 

“Breakfast?” He asks with eyes that are too wide with innocence.

 

“If everyone already left, where did you get that?” Harry says with suspicion.

 

“I made it!”

 

Harry eyes the plate, looking for flaming food or tendrils of smoke curling up and away from a blackened piece of bacon. There are none. Harry takes the plate from Louis’ hands and places it beside them on the floor of the tent.

 

“Niall made it before he left, didn’t he?”

 

Louis’ pretences fall and he smirks openly.

 

“He said you’d think it was romantic.”

 

It makes Harry soften a little, knowing Louis wants to do those kinds of things for him…or at least that he wants him to think he’s done those kinds of things for him. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, squeezing tightly as he brings his lips down against the side of Louis’ neck and blows a loud, wet raspberry. This makes Louis squirm in his lap and giggle quite adorably. Then Harry kisses his way up to Louis’ mouth, abandoning his soft laced punishment in order to give them both a reward.

 

“Merry Christmas my little Pinocchio,” Harry says, trying to reprimand and failing miserably, his voice turning thick with sleep and pure fond as his eyes rove over Louis with mere pleasure.

 

Louis brushes their mouths together briefly.

 

“Not,” he kisses Harry just barely, “little.”

 

Harry’s just content to realise he didn’t object to his claiming ownership over him so he kisses Louis again, grinning against his lips as he says “whatever you say babe.” When they finally stop stealing kisses, Louis brings the plate back and feeds mouthfuls to Harry, tracing the side of Harry’s face with his palm every now and then. He looks semi-hypnotised as he does so, as though his hand moves to stroke Harry without his having any say in it. Harry likes that thought. It makes him smile around his mouthful of bacon and when he does, Louis’ lips quirk up too as though connected to Harry’s by a string.

 

Harry’s heart seems to only get louder the further he gets from last night’s realisation of loving Louis. Every beat of it in his chest is a reminder. Every times his lungs expand and oxygen spreads through his blood, there it is, filling up all the spaces of his body. Once Harry finishes his breakfast, Louis swipes the crumbs away from the corners of his mouth with the gentle pad of his thumb and Harry turns his head to kiss it. Louis’ responsive smile is swoon-worthy in its softness. His eyes shine down at Harry with so much of…whatever that thing is in his eyes that makes Harry’s stomach swoop and his breath halt. Yet Harry still worries he’ll scare Louis away. He feels like every time he touches Louis, he’s saying I love you with his tenderness alone. A message Louis demonstrated he isn’t ready to hear yet.

 

…..

 

“Here we are, first stop on the road to forgiveness,” Louis bellows, stretching his arms wide to encompass the large oval that surrounds them.

 

He’s walking backwards over the centre of it, Harry following every step while also looking around with interest.

 

“This where you used to play footie?” He clarifies.

 

Louis stops walking abruptly and collapses into a cross legged position on the grass. Harry follows, tugging the red scarf around Louis’ neck to pull it tight because the wind is whipping something fierce. Louis smiles, endeared and squeezes Harry’s knee in thanks.

 

“Yep,” he finally answers, gesturing at the goal behind Harry’s head, “scored more goals in there than all of the guys on my team….except one.”

 

Louis’ expression sobers and Harry’s brain clicks.

 

“Elliot?” Louis nods. “The road to forgiving yourself then I presume?”

 

“Myself,” Louis agrees but then raises his eyes to the greying sky, “the world too. Elliot. Whatever reason this happened….I have to let all that go. This urge I had to destroy myself...or to waste away, you know…because I just don’t want to be bitter anymore Harry.”

 

Harry cups the sides of Louis’ scarf clad neck, pressing his thumbs through the material to the warm skin beneath. Louis’ eyes caress him as Harry’s veins thrum with feeling for the boy before him.

 

“Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”

 

“Once or twice,” Louis responds with a little grin, reaching up to remove Harry’s hands only to twine their fingers together, “but I never tiring of hearing it.”

 

“And I never tire of you,” Harry says slowly, using Louis’ hands as leverage to rock forward and kiss him.

 

“Sap,” Louis says, thumb brushing over Harry’s cheek belying his cynicism.

 

Harry sits back now but he uses their conjoined hands to pull Louis with him, stretching out into a lying position. He holds Louis’ hands to his chest and looks up at the boy straddling him with interest.

 

“Tell me about this place.”

 

Louis smiles down at him and then flicks his thick, dark fringe to the side a little nervously, pausing before the words fall out more freely than Harry expected.

 

“Elliot and I played here both with our team and whenever we could. This was one of our main hang outs. I didn’t give it up completely after he died…couldn’t really…but I quit the team. We just had so many memories here. Like one time we played in the afternoon and it was storming like crazy,” Louis grins at the memory, his blue eyes caught in the whirlpool of the past, “and I ran to get the ball off Elliot and I went for a mud slide that I kid you not, went for about half the length of the field. It was brilliant. Course mum didn’t think so, had to wash my clothes twice just to get all the dirt out.”

 

Harry chuckles and it seemingly reminds Louis that he’s currently seated on another person’s stomach. His smile is kind of watery and raw, as if touched that Harry would be so entertained by his past…amazed that Harry would even want to know the collective tales of his youth. Harry encircles Louis’ wrists and then runs his hands up all the way to Louis’ elbows and back down, feeling so indubitably in love as Louis presses his hands to his jaw and kisses him gently. As if they had all the time in the world just to make out on soccer ovals. Somehow it feels like they do.

 

“Tell me more,” Harry says gruffly, pulling at Louis’ wrists to detach his tiny hands.

 

Louis won’t be detached though. He grips tighter, rubbing his thumbs across Harry’s cheeks but resuming his storytelling anyway.

 

“Elliot told me everything right here,” Louis says softly, taking his hands from Harry to pat the grass either side, “right here in the centre. I heard about him kissing that guy from the year below us, heard the names people were calling him but I didn’t want to ask. I wasn’t ready to hear it perhaps. So I was mostly just there by his side all day in supportive silence. We came here after school like we usually did and we were playing kick to kick and then all of a sudden he drops down in the centre, right here and starts bawling.”

 

“And he told you he was gay?”

 

“Yeah. He told me how scared he was to tell his parents and how much it meant to him that I,” Louis clenches his eyes shut, “…that I was there for him. He said it was going to change his whole life and I asked him why then, why would he risk getting caught the way he did and then tell his parents? Why wouldn’t he just hide it?”

 

“And what did he say?”

 

Louis’ opens his eyes and takes a deep, shuddery breath.

 

“He said that as afraid as he was of what people would think, he was more afraid of regretting not being honest. He said he wanted people to love him for who he really was.”

 

“Wise man,” Harry comments, reaching up to pet at Louis’ hair, providing comfort.

 

“He was,” Louis says with a trembling smile, “I mean…is. But I didn’t understand it. Yeah I said the right things. I told him it was brave and that I’d support him…no matter what…but I didn’t understand the importance of it all. I didn’t get what he was fighting for.”

 

“And now?” Harry asks, studying Louis intently.

 

Louis looks deep into Harry’s eyes, his thumbs pressed just below. There’s knowledge inside Louis’ own blue opals that Harry can’t read. Yet as it leaks out of Louis’ eyes and across his form, he feels its intensity. The undercurrent of electricity. The unshakable strength of whatever it is.

 

“Now,” Louis pauses, his look passing over each of Harry’s features twice before he continues, “I understand the stakes.”

 

Harry can’t resist anymore. He crushes Louis’ against him by the small of his back, hands fisting in the lovely, red jumper that’s fitted to Louis’ tiny waist and upper body. Lips surge up and down at the same time, meeting in the middle, in a lovely twisted, tangle of tongues that sends a white, hot column of heat down Harry’s spine. It only ends when Louis pulls away, smoothing his hands across the navy blazer that covers Harry’s white shirt.

 

“You’re awfully dressed up sweet-“Louis’ eyes go round and he blusters as he continues, “ah, love.”

 

“I’m meeting your family,” Harry says with a frown, “don’t you want me to make a good impression?”

 

“I sense they’ll adore you either way Harold.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, exasperated so Harry rolls them over, hands cupping Louis’ waist to ensure he doesn’t hurt him as they roll. He leans over Louis now.

 

“And do you adore me Louis Tomlinson?” he demands, eyes gleaming.

 

“Um,” Louis draws his fingers down across his light facial hair, “let me think on that one.”

 

Harry growls and then shoves his hand down the front of Louis’ tight blue jeans.

 

“Harry!” Louis scolds him, even as his eyes roll a little at the way Harry moves his hand, “we’re on a fucking oval.”

 

“Better think fast then,” Harry teases, sliding his hand down further across Louis’ length, feeling the automatic twitch of his dick as he rubs a thumb across the head.

 

“Fuck,” Louis growls, “okay, okay. You win.”

 

Harry swipes his finger across the slit, pressing gently. Louis’ head falls back to touch the grass.

 

“Harrrrry,” he whines, “we’re not doing this here.”

 

“So say the magic phrase,” Harry warns.

 

Louis sighs and closes a hand over Harry’s wrist as he looks into his eyes, preparing to rip his hand away.

 

“I adore you Harry Styles,” he grumbles.

 

Harry tightens his hold and runs his fist up and down twice, nice and quick, finishing with another stroke of the head and he can feel Louis stiffening quickly. Louis tries to pull Harry’s hand away but his hand is much too little to have any measurable effect and Harry’s having too much fun teasing him.

 

“Didn’t hear you babe. Sorry.”

 

Harry’s smirk is larger than anything and Louis narrows his eyes. Then he throws back his head as his voice booms out into the greying sky, his only audience aside from Harry.

 

“I ADORE HARRY EDWARD STYLES.”

 

Harry giggles and retracts his hand. Louis shakes his head at first, lips pressing together so determinedly, trying to imprison a smile. However Harry’s chesty laugh is much too contagious. Louis laughs too, tugging Harry into a kiss by the lapels on his blazer.

 

“Time for the next stop,” he says with a husky tone and eyes that seek to devour. 

 

Harry can see he’s still quite hard in his jeans.

 

“Lead the way adoring fan.”

 

Louis pinches his side and Harry laughs again, feeling completely euphoric.

 

…..

 

Louis grabs Harry’s hand just after they slip into the corridor. Harry smiles down at his head which he ducks, clearly a little shy about how much he likes touching now. _I love you I love you I love you._ Harry hears it in his head like it’s the new soundtrack to his life.

 

“Can’t believe they just leave it unlocked,” He comments now, hoping to distract Louis from his embarrassment.

 

It works. Louis swings their hands unconsciously as he answers.

 

“Well it’s Hall Cross high school, it’s not a maximum security prison.”

 

“Still,” Harry says, looking around the locker bay with intrigue, trying to imagine a baby faced Louis walking down the hall.

 

Louis looks at him now with a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth.

 

“Just because you’re from Cheshire,” he says, exacting Harry’s posh accent quite accurately, “Harold Edward. They probably called you by your last names,” Louis smirks as he drops his eyebrows, stopping them both and crossing his arms as he continues, “Mr Styles, please name the countries involved in the first world war.”

 

Harry drops his head in defeat or shame perhaps. Louis’ laugh and accompanied question that’s not really a question are both gleeful as he squeezes Harry’s arm.

 

“They did…didn’t they?!”

 

“They might have,” Harry mumbles to his feet.

 

Next thing he knows, Louis’ pushed him up against the nearest metal locker and is gripping his chin, forcing his head up.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed of your posh roots love. You can tell all your posh friends, including Nick…no wait,” Louis cocks his head to the side, his smile growing, “especially Nick….that a lowly Donny footie player kissed you right up against a school locker in Hall Cross.”

 

Harry pulls Louis to him with a brilliant smile and then they make out like crazy, Harry’s hands drifting down to grope at Louis’ bum while Louis’ hands close over his shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly as he pushes them both back against the locker. Harry starts to feel the lock digging into his back and so pushes Louis away gently.

 

“I do believe we came here for a reason…one which you’re yet to share with me.”

 

Louis grins and takes Harry’s hand again, leading him down the corridor and then out the other end. Just to the left, there’s a huge gymnasium with a pointed roof. Louis doesn’t stop them inside the gym though. He takes Harry through another door, into the locker room/bathroom and then stills, looking over the scene with trepidation.

 

“I used to go use the normal toilets to get changed. Wouldn’t come back in here,” he says, looking over the wooden benches that are situated before blue, metal lockers that form a rectangle shape.

 

There’s the faint smell of body odour mixed with men’s deodorant and there’s a few errant strands of clothing hanging off the tops of lockers, dirty socks and the like. Harry’s nose turns up automatically. He never had liked places like these. Louis sits down at the bench, bringing Harry with him and then points at the corner of the wall that separates the lockers from the pristine white shower area that Harry had spied right where they came in.

 

“That’s where he kissed me,” he says sorrowfully, “we were in here,” Louis sifts a hand through the air in a circle to indicate the lockers, “when he confronted me and I tried to leave. He crowded me up against the wall and just went for it.”

 

“Louis,” Harry says, pained, pulling Louis into his side.

 

Louis points to the doorway now.

 

“I pushed him and he hit his head there. I said….what I said…and he looked up at me like I was a stranger…like he didn’t know me from atom… and then left. This place,” Louis heaves out a breath, “it’s been my Everest in some ways. This memory really. Every time I close my eyes and see that look on his face again, I feel sick.”

 

Harry’s fingers dance over Louis’ arm gently.

 

“You need to remember what I said. You need to remember that his death isn’t a direct result of that memory. I need you to stop being afraid of it.”

 

Louis turns to Harry now and pulls on the sides of his blazer with so much anxiety and sadness in his eyes that Harry’s throat forms a lump.

 

“I’m not so much afraid of it anymore. That’s what’s so hard. I feel like I’m more afraid of….losing you than I am of losing these memories I swore I’d never let myself forget. And I…I feel like it’s inevitable,” Louis’ voice comes out tight and strained, “losing you that is.”

 

Harry’s hands close over Louis’ fists bunched in his blazer and he strokes the skin over his knuckles that’s pulled tight with tension.

 

“You’re not going to lose me. What on earth would make you think that?”

 

Louis’ eyes dart down to their hands, creamy white blending into tan as he answers the question, his voice rasping slightly with every word as if he were severely dehydrated.

 

“You’re going back to Cheshire in a few days. When camp is over and you go back, you’ll forget all about me.”

 

Harry covers half of Louis’ face with his gigantic hands, letting his thumbs stroke away the tension below the eyes he adores so very much. He watches the tears that are yet to spill. Tears for him. It makes his heart pound against his chest with considerable force. It makes his own eyes sting painfully. _I love you I love you I love you._

 

“Cheshire is only an hour or so away darling. Maybe an hour and a half,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing tone, blushing only slightly at his use of the pet name.

 

Louis doesn’t seem to mind. He hiccups slightly as he rubs his hand down Harry’s wrist, Harry still cradling his face.

 

“But if we were…” Together, Harry fills in his head, “if we were….I mean, if this didn’t end here….that’s a lot to expect. We couldn’t just see each other whenever…we’d have to plan and work around commitments and you would get tired of it. I could get tired of it. I just don’t think-“

 

Harry silences him with a short kiss and then presses his thumb to the seam of his mouth as he murmurs his promise.

 

“I swear you have nothing to worry about.”

 

Louis’ mouth twists and his eyes look far too solemn to mean he’s effectively convinced but he takes Harry’s hand and stands now, doing that thing where he looks so deep into Harry, it feels like his eyes must be getting caught on the bottom of his soul. He drops Harry’s hand and then pulls his jumper up and over his head, letting it drop to the floor.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks Louis, voice already hoarse from surveying the tight muscles and the disturbingly sexy v line that leads into his jeans.

 

“I want you to make up for that shower you denied me,” Louis says, eyeing Harry steadily as he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, “I want you to wash it all away,” he lets his eyes flicker sideways to the scene of his fight with Elliot, “all of the hurt that happened here. My hurt. Elliot’s hurt. Wash it off my skin. I need you. I need you to touch me.”

 

Harry hesitates, even as he looks Louis over with hunger.

 

“Here? I mean…I know I teased you out at the oval but Louis…what if someone walks in?”

 

Louis’ mouth lifts at the side.

 

“That’s half the fun Harold.”

 

He drops his briefs then, standing up with a smug smile on his face because he clearly knows just how much it affects Harry; the sight of his cock, semi hard and glistening. It’s just stunning. It would be hard not to know how it affects him with the way Harry’s hand instinctively moves to cup his own dick through his jeans, a startled breath emanating from his mouth.

 

Then Louis turns and struts away with swinging hips, towards the showers. Harry stares after him with a gaping mouth and presses his hand harder against his own package. Louis is like an ancient Greek sculpture as the fluorescent lights from above dance along the sharp planes of his shoulder and the tension lines in his back. His tiny waist is just begging for Harry to wrap his palms around it and then….the piece de resistance….the perfect slope of his ass, curving outward, tempting Harry with its smooth, supple skin. He know just how good it feels in his hands…beneath his lips….

 

“You coming?”

 

The words reek of knowing, as Louis grasps the side of the wall, his bum still on display as he looks back at Harry with expectation.Harry’s about to saw through his lip with his teeth. Louis lets out a trill of a laugh and then disappears around the side of the wall. Harry groans and then sheds his clothing quicker than he’s ever shed anything in his life.

 

When Harry rounds the corner, one of the shower heads is already streaming with Louis beneath it, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as the steam from the hot water rolls off him in waves. There’s a peaceful smile on his face as he runs his hand through his hair, the water cascading off the very tips and down his shoulders and back. Harry approaches this lovely Adonis and slides his fingers into Louis’ hair, feeling the hot water rush down his own body now as he presses his lips against Louis’, gaining entrance.

 

“How am I supposed to clean you,” Harry breathes against Louis’ hair, brushing his lips along it, “when we’ve got no soap?”

 

Louis gives him a “you should know better” look and then dances out of Harry’s arms and beyond the wall. He flourishes a soap bar as he returns.

 

“Brought it in my jeans,” he explains, “I did have certain things in mind today.”

 

Harry chuckles and grabs the soap from Louis, tugging him close and wrapping an arm around his waist.

 

“Turn around,” he orders Louis, breathing quite raggedly just looking at the beautiful form before him.

 

Louis’ eyes track down to his lips and he pushes up for a quick kiss before doing as Harry asks. Harry takes the soap in hand and rubs it slowly across Louis’ back and shoulders, watching it turn sudsy as it mingles with the water. He smooths it down across the hard planes of Louis’ back with his palm, squeezing Louis’ shoulder as he leans forward to kiss the back of his neck, sucking slightly. Louis’ head tips back and Harry’s hands wander down to his bum, soaping the skin up slowly, squeezing and rubbing as he does so. He parts Louis’ cheeks with his hands and then runs his hand up the space between.

 

“Please,” Louis gasps out.

 

Harry drops the soap, slipping his finger into Louis as he slips a hand around his own dick. He begins to slide his finger in and out amidst Louis’ breathy gasps. Then suddenly Louis whips around, Harry’s finger falling sadly from the tight hole. He forces Harry up against the tiled wall, holding his hands up above his head as he takes Harry’s mouth with force and suddenly Harry forgets what he was put out about. He’s never quite been dominated like this and he finds it’s more than pleasurable. Louis releases his hands and Harry reaches around to pull Louis closer by the bum, their cocks brushing. Harry's the one gasping now as Louis’ mouth breaks away from his and closes over his pulse point, sucking ferociously.

 

“Louis,” he says weakly and then a beat later, “….fuck me.”

 

Louis’ mouth leaves his neck and he looks up at Harry with surprise, his blue eyes dilated with lust.

 

“Harry…have you-“

 

“No, I’ve never. But I want to,” Harry smiles slightly shy now, “that way….we’d both be each other’s firsts. We could…kind of…share that really.”

 

Louis smiles gently at this and then joins their mouths, his hands raking through Harry’s curls to massage his scalp as his tongue glides across Harry’s slowly, burning him up inside. Louis squeezes his sides as he breaks the kiss and then turns him around so he’s pressed up against the wall, turning his head sideways so he can watch out the corner of his eye. Louis picks up the soap from where Harry dropped it on the floor and then runs the whole bar up between Harry’s cheeks which clench around it. Then, he spreads the resulting suds around with his hands, his palm covering Harry’s hole as he does so.

 

Louis’ fingers clench around the small curve of Harry’s bum cheek as with the other hand, he inserts two fingers straight off the bat, stretching Harry wide immediately. It hurts at first and Harry's hands press against the wall, his whole body tensing as he tries to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. Louis’ hand passes across his lower back.

 

“You okay sweetheart?”

 

It’s the combination of that and Louis crooking his fingers slightly to touch Harry’s prostate that makes him push back against Louis with a low whine. How is Louis so good at this?

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Harry can hear the smirk in Louis’ voice. He pumps his digits in and out then, continuing to crook them just right until Harry’s keening and begging for Louis to fuck him. Finally, only when Harry feels like he’s about to come untouched all over the shower wall, does Louis take back his fingers and stand, parting Harry’s cheeks and guiding his cock in. He thrusts in deep and hard, one hand clutching Harry’s bum, the other curled around his bicep. Louis’ hips begin to fly and he pushes Harry against the wall with each thrust, grunting loudly as he bottoms out, hitting Harry’s sweet spot and making him groan every time. Louis leans forward and attaches his mouth to Harry’s neck, trailing kisses down and then planting love bites up across the same line. Harry’s head falls back against Louis’ shoulder in ecstasy as Louis adjusts the angle, thrusting further upward, hitting his prostate head on.

 

“Come inside,” Harry begs.

 

Louis’ only answer is a moan as he quickens his pace, squeezing Harry’s hip hard with a soapy hand. Water runs over their bodies, making each movement slick and wet sounding and their skin warm and softer to the touch. Louis pounds into him deep and then with a few more quick thrusts, he comes, biting into Harry’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his hip as he spills deep inside. He continues to thrust, riding out the orgasm and with each prod of his prostate, Harry’s dick twitches. Then Louis’ hand comes around his body to jerk him off and with just a few sharp tugs, he loses it, spraying all over the shower wall, his fingers splaying against it as he tries to keep himself standing. He’s so spent. He can feel Louis’ come leaking out now and then Louis’ hands are all over him, washing away the remnants of soap and come, turning him around and kissing across his chest and down to his v lines as he slumps against the wall, completely tuckered out. Louis holds him up, taking care of him as he turns off the water, leads him out of the shower and grabs a towel from a nearby cabinet.

 

He dries Harry off slowly, his blue eyes regarding Harry with something soft and sweet. He parts Harry’s wet curls, pulling them away from his face and then holds Harry’s head in his hands as he reaches up on tip toes to drop a kiss to his hair. They change back into their clothes in silence but it’s not uncomfortable or fraught with tension as it so often seemed before Louis started to speak. It’s just amicable and utterly peaceful. They share smiles full of their afterglow and when Louis takes his hand, pulling him back outside to the carpark, Harry realises he finally knows what it is to be 100% happy.

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs to Louis, bringing his hand to his mouth.

 

Louis’ eyes find his, still painted in that shining crystal blue.

 

“For what?”

 

“For making me so damn happy.”

 

Louis cheeks twitch at this, his smile growing and he kisses Harry’s hand right back.

 

“Thank  _you_ ,” he returns, “for washing it away. For being you, Harry Styles.”

 

They smile dopily at each other and Harry loves that if he wasn’t one of the two of them, he might feel sick watching…or at least sick with jealousy.

 

…..

 

“Louis, you’re shaking,” Harry says concerned, looking down at Louis whose hand trembles in Harry’s as they walk up the cobblestone driveway, “are you sure you’re ready?”

 

“Of course,” Louis says briskly, “it’s time. It’s the last stop.”

 

“And she won’t be with family?” Harry checks.

 

They stop at the white door and with sad, blue eyes Louis murmurs, “She hasn’t got any” and then knocks twice on the door. The woman who opens up is tall and lean with lovely dark raven hair and big, kind brown eyes. She’s wearing a pink woollen jumper and black leggings and she looks more like a slightly aged model than a mother….that is until her eyes flicker from Harry to Louis and fill with tears.

 

“Louis!” She gasps, her hands twitching by her side as if tempted to hug him but she stays motionless.

 

“Hey Mrs S,” Louis says, sounding like he’s got a frog in his throat.

 

Harry squeezes his hand and gets a small smile of gratitude in return.

 

“Oh stop,” she waves her hand at Louis with a watery smile, “call me Karen. We’re both adults now aren’t we love?”

 

“Merry Christmas….Karen,” Louis says, sounding a little unsure.

 

“Merry Christmas love. I was just about to put me lunch on, your mum dropped something off for me. Would you boys like some tea?”

 

Louis and Harry both smile at the kind tone and the offer. Karen ushers them inside and onto the burgundy toned settee in the living room with a soft smile and a promise of “I’ll be right back.” When she returns, she seems slightly less energetic, placing the tray before them with practiced calm. Harry and Louis take their tea from the tray and sip, sighing collectively as the warmth fills their bodies.

 

“I remember, Louis,” Karen says from the couch that sits perpendicular to theirs, “I remember just how much you loved your tea.”

 

Louis smiles just as affectionately back at her and then guides a hand down between Harry’s shoulder blades as he blows on his tea to cool it a little.

 

“Karen, this is my, ah,” Louis eyes flicker sideways to Harry and then back to Karen, “…Harry. We just came because…well I thought it was about time and I….I wanted to talk to you about…Elliot.”

 

Karen reaches a hand out to Harry. When Harry goes to shake it, she grasps his hand in hers, squeezing tightly as she says, “so lovely to meet you Louis’ Harry.” Harry grins. He’s not sure why but he feels like her eyes are imparting so much meaning in that short space of time; a simple ‘look after him’ is implicit but something more than that too. Something that feels more like gratitude. As if she knows that Harry has something, or perhaps a lot to do with Louis being here. Then she turns back to Louis.

 

“I’m glad. I’m so relieved Louis. These past few years…they were…well your mother said it was very difficult for you. I just thought in the beginning…I thought it would be easier together and then, I heard about you in the hospital,” Karen’s eyes swell with tears again, “…oh love, that was the worst news I’d had since Elliot. I couldn't bear to hear. Your mum said it was just too painful for you to see me. Still, I tried calling…you know,” her voice breaks slightly, “I just wanted to hear your voice. Not just because it would keep me close to Elliot but because I loved you Louis. I still do.”

 

Louis’ whole body shudders beside Harry and then he’s bent over, sobbing and Karen is leaning across to stroke his hair, whispering things like “it’s okay love” and “it’s going to better now, I promise” until the tears start to subside and he raises his head to confront her. Harry rubs circles into his lower back, flattening his messy hair as he starts to speak.

 

“I just…I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness,” Karen tries to protest but Louis keeps going, his voice sounding dry and strained, “I never told you the truth and then I just left you…all alone. I’m so sorry. I have to tell you…I have to tell you what really happened.”

 

“What do you mean?” Karen asks with a frown.

 

Harry takes Louis’ hand again, knotting their fingers together and stroking the back of Louis’ hand with his thumb.

 

“Elliot tried to kiss me a couple of weeks before,” Louis takes a deep breath, “before he died. I knocked him back. I rejected him. I pushed him away and I basically told him I didn’t want anything to do with him.”

 

Karen just stares for a moment and Harry can see Louis’ bottom lip quivering. Then she leans across and pulls him into a tight hug, the two of them perched on the edges of their chairs, crying quietly into each other’s shoulders.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whimpers into her shoulder.

 

“It’s okay…it’s okay…it’s not your fault,” Karen soothes intermittently, petting his hair once more.

 

When they pull back, Karen wipes her errant tears away and laughs at herself.

 

“God, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry this year,” she says with a weak smile, “but here I am! I knew love. I knew he had a thing for you,” Louis’ face registers surprise, “from when you were both young. I could tell…a mother can always tell and so I also knew you didn’t feel the same. He was a brother to you and that was all. Thought it would resolve itself, didn’t I? But I don’t blame you for that Louis. I wish he’d come to me. I know it would have hurt him but I also know that you must have been so scared love.”

 

“You do?” Louis breathes.

 

“You were only just discovering it. I saw it in you too…that change you both went through. Elliot was miles ahead of us all. He knew who he was and he didn’t need time to adjust…but that’s my boy,” Karen smiles, her face shining with the traces of tears, “so sure of himself. It’s why his death….it hurt so much. I thought there was nothing that could make him doubt that. I knew you needed more time Lou and I get that. I understand why he scared you and that you didn’t mean to hurt him. God kid, please tell me you haven’t been blaming yourself for his death all this time.”

 

Louis looks down at his lap and pulls at the seam on his thigh with a determined expression, Harry still stroking the back of his hand where it lays twined with his own on his thigh.

 

“Oh Louis,” Karen breathes out, reaching out to pat his knee, “it wasn’t your fault sweetheart. Elliot had a lot going on in his life with his dad and the other kids at school and he just didn’t feel at home in his own skin anymore. I wish he’d come to me. I wish he’d felt like he could. I often blame myself for that you see.”

 

Louis’ head shoots up at this and he looks horrified.

 

“No Mrs S…I mean, Karen,” he corrects himself, “it wasn’t you. He loved you so much. He just…he felt so guilty. Thought Mr S and you would still be together if he wasn’t gay. I tried to tell him, I really did but he couldn’t get it out of his head. He trusted you he did. He just didn’t want to be more of a burden than he already felt. When he’d sneak into my room, he’d tell me how much he missed you…how badly he wished he could go home.”

 

Karen breaks down at this, her whole body heaving with sobs as she lets her head fall into her hands. Louis’ right there, returning the favour as he grabs her hand and squeezes until she looks back up, still shaking.

 

“You were the only person who never let him down,” Louis says softly, “and maybe that’s just another reason I couldn’t face you until now. Until I had come to terms with what I did,” Louis’ eyes travel to Harry’s and stroke them with tender vestiges of the heated sex they shared, “until I had washed away the last dregs of burning, debilitating regret and self-hatred.”

 

“So…you’re okay now?” Karen asks, tilting her head, looking curious.

 

“I’m-“

 

“A working progress,” Harry finishes, pressing his thumb into Louis’ hand, “he’s working at it always. The same way you are I suspect. I don’t know if people ever get over these things, do they? Maybe that’s not what the rest of your life is about…moving on in spite of him that is…maybe your life is just about doing him proud, living with him inside you, not behind you trapped in some scarp of the past that you’re still holding onto. He’s in every move either of you make towards happiness.”

 

Karen looks a touch awed, and a lot grateful and Louis himself looks quite proud.

 

“He’s a keeper love,” Karen stage whispers to Louis.

 

Louis chuckles in time with Harry and doesn’t contest it. Harry feels like his smile is etched into his face as Karen looks down at their conjoined hands with a soft smile.

 

“You two are…” she pauses, looking over their faces, “something special. Something great. I’m very happy for you Lou, I’m happy you’ve discovered yourself.”

 

“Me too,” Louis says with a pursed smile.

 

“I was thinking…I haven’t got a present…but,” Louis smiles, semi-shyly, “would you like to hear some stories? Some of the things we never told you because we didn’t want to get in trouble.”

 

Karen’s eyes shine brightly as she smiles at Louis encouragingly.

 

“I’d love to.”

 

Harry watches Louis with fondness, pride and so much love, he’s genuinely getting a headache from trying to manage his conflicting desires. While he wants to hear every word, to soak up these details of Louis’ past…he’s also chomping at the bit just to tackle Louis into the couch and cover his face with kisses. Never mind the fact that he'd equally like to thread his fingers through those soft tendrils of hair that shine chocolate brown in this lighting. He’s sure he’ll never get tired of touching Louis’ hair. He can’t help wondering in this moment what it would look like with braids…

 

“He swapped out one of your perfumes for vinegar and I told him you’d realise,” Louis’ saying, eyes alight with humour as Karen hangs on every word, “but then you never said anything, even a week later and so to celebrate, we had fish and chips with vinegar on our way home from school. I still remember what smug little bastards we were.”

 

Karen roars with laughter and Harry likes her more by the second but more than that, he likes the effect this is having on the boy beside him. The boy he’s in love with, who’s currently lit up brighter than all the lights on the Christmas trees they passed on the way here. Here come some more urges to kiss him into oblivion and breathe “I love you” into his ear over and over and over again. It’s going to be a long day….

…..

 

They pull up in front of Louis’ house and Harry steps outside the car, pausing to take it in. It’s a little brick thing with a dark thatched roof and large frame windows set in the front. There’s a small set of flower beds along the bottom of the windows and a gate that opens onto a short cement pathway leading up to the door. It’s quaint and homey and Harry likes imagining a little Louis kicking a ball across the lawn or running up the path with his schoolbag knocking against his tiny shoulders. There’s a hand ghosting across his back and lips pressed to his neck as he surveys it all.

 

“What do you think?” Louis asks.

 

Harry turns and smiles slowly at him.

 

“I think…I can’t wait to see inside.”

 

Louis cautions him with an outstretched hand.

 

“I should warn you first….it’s kind of like….well, have you ever seen one of those nature documentaries, the David Attenborough ones, and there’s alphas fighting for scraps of meat and attention from females? And you know, they’re tearing at each other and baring their teeth, trying to get their competitors to back off?”

 

Harry grins at the description but Louis looks deadly serious.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well it’s like that…except more vicious,” Harry barks out a laugh, “and instead of fighting for meat, they’re fighting for the bathroom and instead of female attention, it’s mine or mum’s and instead of tearing at each other and baring their teeth,” Louis pauses and then shakes his head decisively, “no wait, they do that.”

 

Harry squishes him against his chest, arms draped around him tight, because he can. He kisses his hair and then the side of his face and finally, his lips.

 

“I’ve always loved David Attenborough,” he says with a smirk.

 

“Well c’mon then Curly, gotta get their presents out the boot and then we’ll head into the wild.”

 

Harry takes the heavy bag from Louis almost as soon as he hauls it from the car and Louis rolls his eyes but deigns not to argue, which Harry thinks is a wise choice. Harry holds his hand out for Louis to take but Louis just looks at it and bites his lip.

 

“Lou?”

 

“I just…I’ve never brought someone home, obviously…not that you’re ‘someone,’” Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he frowns at Louis’ correction and Louis panics, “I mean…of course you’re someone. I just-“

 

Louis cuts himself off and takes Harry’s hand.

 

“Never mind,” he sighs, his own palm crushed to his face as he shakes his head at himself.

 

Harry tugs on his hand with a grin.

 

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

 

This of course earns him a malevolent glare. Louis unlocks the latch on the gate for them and leads Harry up to the door, knocking on it with a wary expression on his face. It opens up to reveal a woman with long, dark hair, the same colour as Louis’ and similarly tanned skin whose cheeks are flushed with excitement, her smile broad.

 

“Boo!” She says, high pitched, pulling Louis into a close knit hug.

 

Louis arms go around her just as tightly and they stand like that for a moment, her head resting atop Louis’ until her eyes finally rise above to take in Harry and she releases Louis to do so.

 

“Harry love!” She says with zeal, tugging him into his own tight hug.

 

Then she pulls them both inside, taking the bag off Harry and placing it by the tree while castigating Louis for spending his money on presents for them. They walk down a long white hallway into a kitchen with an adjoining living area. That’s when the chaos begins. Two little bodies come hurtling at Louis, blonde hair flying, as he somehow catches them both, kneeling down to hug them close.

 

“Dais,” Louis kisses the one on the left, “Phe,” another kiss, “how are my two favourite eleven year olds?”

 

Louis stands now and they look up at him with so much admiration that Harry finds himself doing the same.

 

“Well…we got our ears pierced,” says the one on the left, wearing a black and white spotted dress and leggings.

 

 Daisy, Harry identifies.

 

They both pull back their hair to flash some tiny, fake diamond studs and Harry takes the opportunity.

 

“They’re very pretty,” he says quietly.

 

Two sets of eyes flash his way, as if only just realising he’s standing there beside Louis. He doesn’t blame them really. He too finds it hard to take in anything else but Louis when he’s in the room. They glance at each other quickly, communicating the way twins seem to be able to do and then look back at Louis.

 

“Who’s that?” they chorus

 

Louis and Harry both chuckle.

 

“Harry,” Louis tells them, sliding a hand over Harry’s shoulder, “this is Harry.”

 

“Harry who?” they say at the same time.

 

“Harry Styles...from camp.” Harry answers for himself.

 

Their eyes flicker back to him again and then Phoebe whispers something in Daisy’s ear who nods very seriously.

 

“Are you dating our brother? Our mum said you’re Louis’ boyfriend.”

 

This makes Harry’s cheeks twitch and he can’t help the stupid smile on his face.

 

“Mum!” Louis calls, sounding majorly pissed off.

 

She appears from one of the rooms leading off the living room with a fantastic gleam in her eye. Harry suspects immediately she was listening in and if he were wearing a hat, he’d tip it off to her.

 

“Stop putting words in their mouths,” he grumbles.

 

Jay smiles beatifically.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about love.”

 

“This family,” Louis groans, burying his hands in his face.

 

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Harry answers Daisy and Phoebe who are looking up at Louis with confusion, “just a friend.”

 

Louis’ hands slide away from his face at this and he grabs Harry’s hand once more.

 

“A special friend,” he corrects.

 

“Oh,” Daisy’s expression lightens and she rocks on her heels, her hands tucked behind her back, “we’ve got loads of those at school.”

 

Harry and Louis dissolve into laughter while Jay calls out, “I should hope not” which of course confuses the twins more.

 

“Dais, we’ve got to tell Lily about the colour code,” Phoebe says suddenly, tugging on Daisy’s hand with panicked eyes looming large in her face.

 

Daisy gasps and then the two disappear up the stairs situated just inside the living room. Louis rolls his eyes and then tows Harry from the kitchen to the living space, pushing him down onto the couch where the TV’s blaring away. On the adjoining settee, sits a man with sandy coloured hair and light blue eyes. Louis runs his hand over Harry’s curls and then leans down to whisper in his ear just as Jay passes.

 

“Boo, come help me in the kitchen. And by help….I mean, come chat.”

 

Louis pauses and then covertly swipes his mouth along Harry’s neck.

 

“You’ll be okay for a bit right? Dan’s not too scary.”

 

Harry nods woodenly even as his heart protests, beating too fast in his chest. Louis obviously notices his stiffness though because he winks at Harry before traveling into the kitchen which now seems like a great distance away. In reality he can't be more than a few meters. However it’s far enough away that when Dan leans in to whisper, Louis and Jay won’t hear him.

                                                                                                                                                               

“If you break his heart, I break you,” he says, with an unflinching expression, “hear me?”

 

“Loud and clear,” Harry croaks.

 

Then Dan leans back and folds one jean clad leg over the other, and spreads his arms out along the back of the couch with a huge, toothy smile.

 

“Now that, that’s over and done with-“

 

“Dan,” Jay calls out, with a punishing tone, “don’t tell me you threatened him.”

 

Dan shrugs and then winks at Harry before turning his head in his wife’s direction.

 

“It’s a tradition. I’ll do it for the rest of ‘em too when they’re old enough to date.”

 

Louis of course pipes up at this, stamping his foot like an angry child.

 

“If people would STOP assuming things about me and Harry-“

 

“Calm down Louis,” Dan warns him, shaking his head at Harry as if to say, “get a load of this drama queen.”

 

Louis grumbles quietly to himself until Jay tugs on his hand, encouraging him to uncross his arms as she starts talking to him quietly under her breath. They both glance Harry’s way every now and then as Harry tries to focus on the conversation Dan’s trying to have with him about sport. He feels like he needs a breather though.

 

“Can I ask…” he interrupts Dan’s rant about the lack of talent in some footy side Harry hadn’t caught the name of, “whereabouts is the toilet?”

 

Dan grins and points up and then to the side.

 

“First door on your left when you get up there. Might have a hard time trying to wash your hands afterward though. If it’s not Lottie doing her make-up, it’ll be Fizzy doing her hair.”

 

Harry laughs at this and then claps his thighs as he stands up.

 

“I’ll take my chances,” he says with a grin.

 

Of course Dan ends up being almost exactly spot on. The two of them turn to gape at the intruder as soon as he enters the bathroom. Fizzy looks all done up in a short black dress with red painted lips and she holds a straightener aloft in her hand, one side of her hair falling in soft brown waves. Harry can see the resemblance to Louis immediately and it melts him instantly. Lottie, on the other hand has long blonde hair and big blue eyes and even while brandishing a mascara wand painted black, looks much more laid back in jeans and a soft white jumper. Harry thinks back to what Louis told him on the way. Charlotte’s the second oldest, at 16 and Felicity is 13.

 

“Hello,” he says, smiling kindly at them as he holds up his hands, “mind if I wash my hands?”

 

They share a glance quite similar to the one Daisy and Phoebe shared earlier and then suddenly they’re pressing closer.

 

“So you’re Louis’ boyfriend,” Lottie says steadily, looking him up and down.

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Well…whatever you are,” Lottie waves her hand and Harry waits for her to tell him to get the hell away from her brother or threaten him as Dan had, “welcome to our home.”

 

Harry’s touched and he smiles at her more broadly now, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as he moves through them to wash his hands. When he turns, it’s Fizzy who speaks now, looking him over with a kind of laser vision that makes him just slightly uncomfortable. He turns around and begins to back away toward the door, as subtly as possible but she wraps a hand around his wrist. For a thirteen year old, she’s one hell of a flirt as she smiles girlishly at him and bats her eyelashes down against her cheeks.

 

“You’re very good looking Harry,” she says as Lottie rolls her eyes behind her.

 

Harry backs right into a solid body and then an arm curls around him, keeping him in place. He looks back at Louis who looks quite irritated again as he pulls Harry tight into his side.

 

“Thought I’d come see where you’d got to,” Louis huffs, “now I see my sister’s just been cracking onto you. Fizzy,” Louis scolds, his fingers pressing into Harry’s hip as he turns angry blue eyes her way, “didn’t mum ever tell you not to touch things that don’t belong to you?”

 

Fizzy looks properly chastised as she flushes and retracts her hand from Harry. Lottie clamps a hand down on her shoulder, trying to comfort. Now Harry feels awful, watching her eyes cloud over with rejection. They all really do love Louis so much. Harry knows Louis’ disappointment in her is the sole reason for the tears shining in her eyes.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry says gently, “Louis should listen to your mother himself. I don’t belong to your brother either.”

 

Even if I want to, he adds internally. Louis huffs beside him and just tightens his grip but Harry’s rewarded by the return of Fizzy’s smile and a small laugh from Lottie.

 

“He’s right Lou,” Lottie says with a smirk, “get your grubby paws off him.”

 

“No chance,” Louis scoffs and then shepherds Harry out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

 

He leads Harry into a room which has bright red walls, a queen sized bed with a black duvet and clothes scattered all across the floor. There’s pictures of Louis with his family and Elliot, arranged haphazardly on the glass nightstand beside the bed and a football in the corner resting against the sizable wardrobe.

 

“Nice walls,” Harry says, looking around at the fire engine colour.

 

Louis doesn’t even answer, just pushes him onto the bed and straddles him immediately, kissing down the column of his throat.

 

“Louis,” Harry cries out, strangled.

 

Louis pulls back to look at him, bouncing on his dick a little on purpose which makes Harry gasp.

 

“Yes Harold?”

 

“We’re not- we can’t….not here.”

 

“Oh babe,” Louis pinches his cheek, his eyes sparkling, “I’m not going to have sex with you. I’m just staking a claim.”

 

“Excuse me?” Harry asks, confused.

 

Louis flashes his teeth and then bends over Harry and sucks a huge love bite into his neck.

 

“There,” he says smugly, wiping at his mouth as he pulls back.

 

“You…” Harry’s mouth gapes open wide, “I can’t believe you just…”

 

The door starts to creak and Louis rolls off Harry quicker than anything.

 

“Lou?” Jay asks, her eyes traveling between Louis and Harry quickly and filling with knowing amusement, “I was just wondering if you wanted to see the babies while they’re up.”

 

Louis jumps up at this and offers a hand to Harry who takes it, squeezing his fingers a little too hard. “ _I’ll get you for that later_ ,” Harry mouths, rubbing at the spot on his neck. Jay notices as he passes her and chortles loudly as Louis quite unabashedly sighs, “I gave him it.”

 

Harry’s wildly confused. First, Louis gets frustrated when his family assumes they’re dating…but then he turns around and marks Harry for them all to see. Meanwhile, considering Jay’s amusement, Harry’s beginning to think that being around the Tomlinson’s is a lot like being around just slightly different versions of Louis in the same household. 

 

…….

 

“I think she’s asleep,” Harry whispers, leaning his head against Louis’ shoulder as he stares down at the angel before him.

 

“Ernest too,” Louis comments.

 

Harry drags his eyes from his bundle to the one Louis houses in his arms. Ernest’s tiny mouth pulls in with every breath, his tiny body heaving slightly as he pushes it back out. Harry knows he’s probably gone loopy just because he’s fallen in love with these babies in the short time he's known them but he can’t help but think Ernest looks just like Louis when he’s deep in sleep. He can’t help but imagine a baby with Louis’ big blue eyes and pencil thin mouth. Ernest squeezes his fist tight in sleep and it’s official…he’s a miniature Louis... a baby Louis and oh god, are those tears forming in Harry’s eyes at the thought? Baby Louis. A baby blue eyed, baby boy. Louis’ boy. Louis’ baby. The Tommo Junior. The blood vessels in Harry’s heart are bursting as his eyes prickle all over.

 

“Harry,” Louis says, his tone full of softness, as they lay against each other on the couch, the rest of the family gathered in the kitchen rushing around to help Jay serve up, “are you crying?”

 

Louis’ looking down at him as he combs his hand through the curls that they rest upon his shoulder, Ernest resting in the crook of his other arm. Harry flushes and tries to blink the tears away as he glances back down at Doris, who makes a sucking noise and tenses her tiny eyelids slightly. Harry’s not sure what possesses him, apart from his obsession with tiny humans but he leans down and brushes a kiss over her sweet smelling forehead. When he raises his head, Louis himself looks a little choked up as he guides a hand across Harry’s jaw, gently turns his face and then kisses him soft and slow, Harry’s mouth yielding instantly as his heart tangles with Louis’ in the air in between.

 

Then, two hands land on their shoulders and they start, looking up to find Dan smirking at them.

 

“I see you four are just one big happy family and I hate to interrupt but dinner’s ready. You’ll have to go put the babies down.”

 

This however, ends with Harry pushed up against the wall of the nursery with Louis pulling on his collar and attacking his mouth with a vengeance.

 

“I always wanted to call my daughter Darcy,” Harry says between kisses.

 

Louis’ right hand fists tighter in his blazer at this and he wastes no time re-joining their mouths, sucking ferociously until Harry disengages, chuckling at the concentrated little frown that forms between Louis’ eyes in response.

 

“Your family is waiting for us,” he reminds him.

 

"They can wait a little longer," Louis rasps, cupping Harry's neck as he kisses him again, pulling at Harry’s lips with his own until he gives in and crushes Louis to him, opening up his mouth.

 

Ten minutes later, they finally make it down the stairs, Louis’ hair less artfully arranged than before and Harry’s cheeks flushed with pleasure.

 

“No wonder they took so long,” Lottie says, stabbing a piece of turkey with her fork.

 

“We started without you lads,” Dan says, raising a glass of champagne as they take their seats beside each other, “but have a seat, tuck in.”

 

Harry looks around at all the wonderful food, still steaming hot and waiting to be devoured. It’s almost as delicious looking as Louis.

 

“This looks wonderful Jay,” Harry says, smiling up at her with wonder.

 

“Thanks love. Help yourself…there’s enough to feed a small army so please, no modesty.”

 

Harry ends up with a plate bursting with vegetables and turkey while Louis’ plate houses a much smaller pile of turkey and just a few leafy greens.

 

“Louis,” Harry says, with warning.

 

“What?” Louis huffs, knowing what’s coming.

 

“That’s not enough. Have some more please.”

 

“My mum is sitting right across from you Harold, I don’t need two.”

 

“I wonder if Nathan would appreciate the kisses you won’t be getting because-“

 

“Wow those green beans look real appetising. I think I’ll have some more.”

 

Harry leans into Louis and kisses the side of his face. Then, both he and Louis notice the silence and when they look up, everybody’s staring at them looking either highly amused or in Jay’s case, very nearly teary.

 

“What?” Louis says, brandishing his spoon at them, “haven’t you ever seen a man cave to blackmail before?”

 

“We have,” Lottie confirms, smiling slyly, “just never seen you cave before.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Louis scoffs, heaping beans onto his plate, “I give in to people all the time.”

 

The rest of the family cackle at this and Louis glares at them all which only makes them laugh harder.

 

“I think it’s sweet,” Fizzy says, smiling determinedly at Harry, still trying to make up for earlier.

 

“Me too,” Harry agrees, beaming from ear to ear.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Louis moans as he stuffs a green bean in his mouth.

 

Harry’s hand finds Louis’ thigh beneath the table and he squeezes, watching Louis’ eyes slide his way and transition from despairing to soft in an instant.

 

…..

 

“Harry,” Jay says, standing up with the plates, “would you like to help me clear up a bit? Louis and the rest can start on the presents he bought for them.”

 

Harry knows this is an intentional move on Jay’s part, to get him alone but he doesn’t mind all that much so he scoops up some more dishes obediently. Louis however, looks fearful, tugging on Harry’s pants with puppy dog eyes.

 

“Please don’t listen to a word she says,” he begs.

 

“Can’t make any promises,” Harry returns with a wink.

 

Louis rolls his eyes but releases Harry who turns and follows Jay over to the sink as Louis and the others move out to sit by the tree.

 

“My son is happy,” is the first thing out of Jay’s mouth as she hands the first soapy dish to him to dry.

 

Harry’s lips turn up as he scrubs at the plate.

 

“I think so too.”

 

“Thank you,” Jay says, her voice tight.

 

Harry’s only response is to grab the next dish, his eyes connecting with hers, sharing just how strongly he feels about her son. She asks anyway.

 

“What is it with you two? I mean…how do you feel? I know it’s none of my business,” Jay holds up soapy hands, “I’m just his mum. But I thought I’d give it a go.”

 

Harry tilts his head, his green eyes reflecting the light above as he tries to find the words.

 

“Louis is a great person to just like…sit and kind of like…admire what he’s like,” Jay’s smile is so full of love as Harry goes on, “you know…he’s just got this spark in him and when he lets it out,” Harry pauses, his own love shining through the smile that's so huge, it's about to fall off his mouth, “he lights up everything around him.”

 

“You love him,” Jay sighs, contented.

 

“I-“

 

“Does he know?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

 

Harry nods.

 

“And he didn’t say it back?”

 

“No,” Harry answers, solemn faced.

 

“Wait here,” Jay orders him, holding up a finger to convey the command.

 

Harry leans back against the stone bench, watching Louis’ face crease up with joy as his siblings proceed to open their gifts and cry out with excitement. After a few moments, Harry turns his body completely to watch Louis whose eyes drift up and over the chaos to his, holding him with their power. Then, Jay comes bustling back in holding a picture frame and Harry reluctantly turns away.

 

“This,” Jay says, pointing at the picture frame which she hands to Harry, just below the bench so it’s hidden from Louis, who Harry spots trying to see over the top, “is why you don’t have to worry love.”

 

The picture is of Jay and Dan on their wedding day, Jay's donned in a beautiful, strapless white dress with her hair curled and resting just barely against her tan shoulders. They’re sitting somewhere, presumably at the reception and Jay’s half bent over, laughing. She looks quite dazzling and absolutely ecstatic, with a kind of shiny film to her eyes that sparkle almost mystically and there's a high, happy blush on her cheeks. However, the real power of the photo is in the man beside her, just watching. Harry can tell from the offset he wasn’t involved in the conversation but his eyes are on her anyway, filled with adoration, his smile deeply enamoured. He looks at her like he can barely contain the feeling inside him….like every flicker of emotion on her face plucks the strings in his heart. It’s the same way Harry looks at-

 

“He looks at you like that,” Jay says definitively.

 

Harry’s eyes fly up to her in shock. Of course when Harry sees Louis, his whole being courses with the kind of feeling conveyed in this image but to think Louis could…because if he could…I mean, that could mean so much for them…

 

“Thank you,” Harry says, his vocal cords pulling tight as he tries to contain the emotion attempting to break through.

 

It’s all he can say really. He doesn’t know if he believes. He just knows he wants to.

 

…..

 

“C’mere Harold,” Louis says softly, dragging Harry into his room and pushing him down onto his bed against the headboard.

 

“What’s this about Lou? Jay said we’re going to watch a movie soon.”

 

“I need to ask you something,” Louis sighs, looking up from beneath his eyelashes with that deadly mix of seductiveness and vulnerability that gets Harry every time.

 

“What is it love?”

 

Louis climbs into Harry’s lap now, grabbing his big hands and sliding his smaller ones inside.

 

“It seems that,” Louis pauses, his eyes flickering to Harry’s and away with nerves, “my family genuinely, seriously think there’s something…..I mean, they seriously, genuinely think…..okay," he heaves out a breath, “they genuinely think we’re seriously together.”

 

Harry drops his head to Louis’ shoulder and spills his laughter there, continuing to laugh until Louis pulls his head up by his curls with an impatient click of his tongue.

 

“Harold, what is so funny?”

 

“Nothing,” Harry grins, “it’s just…I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say ‘genuinely’ and ‘seriously’ so many times in one sentence before and with so many different combinations. You’re quite bothered, aren’t you?”

 

Louis frowns and then slides his hands out of Harry’s to cradle his face.

 

“Actually…” he twists his mouth, “I wanted to know if it bothered _you_.”

 

“If what bothered me?”

 

“People thinking….my family thinking….we’re together like that.”

 

“I don’t think anything could bother me less,” Harry says immediately.

 

Louis fingers curve around his face and then he kisses Harry and whispers a gentle request against his mouth.

 

“Be my boyfriend Harry Styles.”

 

Harry grins and splays his fingers across Louis’ waist. Across his boyfriend’s waist. God, it feels good to call him that.

 

“Love to,” he says softly, burying one hand in Louis’ hair now as he kisses him forcefully and they rock against the headboard, “I’m yours already.”

 

When he pulls off, they’re both breathing fast and smiling at each other like they’re high and maybe they are. High off this crazy chemistry between them.

 

“Now I can give you your birthday present without feeling like an idiot,” Harry says with pointed teeth.

 

Louis’ eyes darken and he grips Harry’s thighs, digging his fingers in.

 

“I told you no-“

 

“Birthday presents,” Harry finishes, “I know but since it’s Christmas day, it’s technically your Christmas present….and you didn’t say anything about those.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes and then tugs on the curls at the back of Harry’s head.

 

“Did I really just ask to date you?”

 

“Yep,” Harry beams, “and there’s no take backs.”

 

“Fine, well what is it?” Louis says, all snippy as he rests his hands, palms open on Harry’s chest.

 

“Well darling,” Harry says sarcastically, “since you simply cannot hold in your excitement for a moment longer, I will tell you.”

 

“Yes please do.”

 

Harry removes the ring from his pinkie, the only finger it would fit on and brandishes it to Louis who looks slightly less hardened with cynicism now as he raises it to his face and inspects the inscription.

 

“I’m gonna burn for you,” Harry sings what’s written there, husky voiced, hopefully taking Louis back to the time he heard Harry sing, “…I went and got it inscribed and resized yesterday while you were playing kick to kick with Niall.”

 

Louis looks up at him with watered eyes, a watery smile and deep, deep fond.

 

“You,” he says with a wobbly voice, “you did this for me.”

 

Harry grabs Louis tiny hand and holds it out, sliding the ring onto his middle finger where it fits perfectly and if Harry imagines doing this again at some point in the future, with a different ring and a different finger, that’s his little secret. Louis need not know.

 

Harry curves his palm around Louis’ cheek and sings again, “I’m gonna burn for you,” his green eyes hopefully trailing heat all along Louis’ face with how much want and love is burning inside him right now. Louis settles a palm over Harry’s heart and then melts against him, their lips coming together just as Louis breathes, “you’re gonna melt for me.” They kiss like that for a little while, Harry tracing the happy creases on Louis’ face and Louis rocking his hips against Harry, quite leisurely. Louis pulls away too soon, jumping off the bed with an idea glimmering in his eyes and Harry whines, reaching out with grabby hands.

 

“In a minute, sweetheart,” Louis soothes and it’s enough of an endearment to satisfy Harry, that and seeing the way Louis rubs his opposing thumb over his ring constantly as if memorising its shape.

 

Louis opens his wardrobe up and reaches in, pulling out some kind of folded red garment from the shelf up the top. When he unfolds it to show Harry, Harry grins. It’s a large, red jersey bearing the name ‘TOMLINSON’ on the back in white block letters, situated above the number 17.

 

“Is that from your football days?” Harry asks, crawling across the bed to reach out and touch the fabric, “it barely looks like it’d fit you now. How did fit back then?”

 

Louis sticks his tongue out at him but answers anyway.

 

“It didn’t. It was way too big. Mum had to get me a new one but I kept this one to sleep in.”

 

“Can I see it on you?” Harry asks, biting his lip at the thought.

 

Louis looks down now, shuffling his feet as he rubs his hand over his ring again.

 

“Actually…” he says quietly….”it’s not exactly a ‘property of…’ sign but I thought now that we’re together…maybe you’d like to keep it,” his voice drops an octave lower as he looks up into Harry’s eyes, his Adam’s apple jumping as Harry’s heart swells, “wear it for me...maybe.”

 

Harry stands now and takes the jersey from Louis, using one hand to pull their faces together in a soft brush of a kiss.

 

“Yes,” he sighs, “I want to wear your jersey. I want to wear it right now.”

 

“Please,” Louis says, gripping Harry’s hip and revealing his need in a way that just wrecks Harry’s heart completely.

 

When they descend the stairs again, Harry having ditched his blazer for Louis’ jersey, there’s a loud chorus of catcalls and  a collective “oooh” that makes Louis groan and Harry laugh as he runs his thumb down Louis' middle finger to his ring. When they sit down on the couch beside Lottie, she scoots away from them immediately and Louis pokes his tongue out at her, simply tucking his head under Harry’s neck as Harry pulls him into his lap.

 

“What movie shall we watch?” Jay asks, bent down by the DVD cabinet.

 

“Love actually,” Louis calls out, looking up at Harry with a sugary sweet smile.

 

“Love actually it is!” Jay announces, plucking the DVD from the cabinet.

 

Harry presses his lips against Louis’ in thanks.

 

“Sap,” he whispers as the screen comes to life and the ads start to play.

 

“Only for you,” Louis murmurs, smoothing a hand across the front of the jersey.

 

“Oh damn, I left the popcorn in the kitchen,” Lottie complains, starting to get up but Harry just pats her knee.

 

“I’ll get it.”

 

She smiles gratefully at him. Harry ambles into the kitchen and grabs the bowl and then pauses as Louis raises his head above the couch to shout at him.

 

“BOYFRIEND.”

 

“He has a name Louis,” Jay scolds but Harry can see she’s not all that bothered.

 

“Yes love?” Harry sighs.

 

“Hurry up. I miss you,” Louis shouts.

 

Lottie and Fizzy collapse in various directions making vomit noises and even Jay’s shaking her head at her son. However Harry’s face feels like it might break from how huge his smile is. When he lands back on the couch, he pulls Louis to him and kisses a circle around his face, ending with his lips in his hair.

 

“I missed you too,” he says, still grinning.

 

Harry’s sure they could rot teeth with their smiles and their touches and basically everything they’ve shared at this point. He knows it’s a honeymoon period and that things might be different after camp. He knows he’s only got two days left with this boy he loves before they’re tested in the real world but right now, with Louis in his lap wearing his ring and Louis’ last name stretched across his own back, it feels real. It feels too much like the start of something incredible to possibly be the end.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance!  
> HOWEVER I would like to emphasise that this is NOT the end. The epilogue is still to come!

_Day Twenty Seven_

 

“Harry,” Louis says in his ear, “it’s time to get up.”

 

They’re currently lying in Louis’ bed and Louis’ tucked his arm around Harry’s bare waist, spooning him from behind as he tangles their feet together. He brushes a kiss over Harry’s shoulder when Harry doesn’t reply.

 

“I know you’re awake love. C’mon, we’ve got to get back to camp.”

 

“Mnf,” is Harry’s mumbled response as he tugs on Louis’ fingers that rest on his chest now.

 

There’s a quiet trickle of laughter and Louis kisses his curls this time.

 

“Babe,” he says, sounding endeared as he presses his head against Harry’s shoulder, “I’d rather lie here with you too but if we don’t get back soon, it’s just going to end with Paul calling you to complain anyway.”

 

“If you want me to get up,” Harry manages, his voice thick with sleep, “you’re going to have to stop cuddling into me. It’s not a very good incentive.”

 

Louis withdraws, patting his hip as he does so. Harry groans and rolls over, opening his eyes into Louis’ who looks unfairly delicious at this hour with tendrils of messy, brown hair falling across his blue eyes which glow a soft, hazy blue, warmth emanating from within.

 

“Why are you so pretty?” Harry complains with a pout.

 

He tends to revert back to childhood when he’s woken too early. Louis chuckles and pets the side of his hair, his eyes brimming with mirth.

 

“You’re pretty too Harold.”

 

“Not like you,” Harry protests, running a hand down the middle of Louis’ chest, “you’re like…a pretty prince. My pretty prince.”

 

Louis’ eyebrows draw together, confused and then he cups Harry’s cheeks in his hands, kissing his petulant mouth for a moment.

 

“You’re adorable,” he says, kissing Harry again, “when you’re too tired,” kiss, “to think straight.”

 

Half an hour later when they’ve both showered (together), dressed (each other) and are driving back, Harry looks over at Louis with sudden horror.

 

“Louis….Did I actually call you my pretty prince?”

 

Louis laughs for all of five minutes before confirming with a smirk.

 

“Why yes my love…you did. And what is this Louis nonsense? I think you mean, Your Highness.”

 

…..

 

“Well if it isn’t the love birds back from their loved up Christmas,” Zayn says with crossed arms and a smirk as Louis and Harry slide onto the seat next to Niall.

 

Harry watches for any sign of Louis reacting to the mention of love but there are no signs, no indications of any special attachment to or issue with the concept.

 

“Oh so you didn’t take Liam to see your folks for the first time?” Louis challenges, “Waved you off remember?”

 

Zayn narrows his eyes at Louis while Liam beams, clearly just elated that Zayn decided to bring him along.

 

“Well I had a great Christmas,” Niall announces leaning around Louis, “I ate so much, mum had to make more.”

 

“Niall!” Harry scolds “Your poor mother.”

 

“She didn’t mind,” he argues back, “it’s not like I asked her to make much more….just some more potatoes….and some vegetables…and well, there wasn’t exactly enough dessert to go round, you know…like what kind of person is satisfied with two helpings?”

 

Louis gives Harry a look that says, “That’s your best friend” and Harry sends him one back that reads, “Unfortunately.”

 

“All those in favour of Niall seeing a dietician, say I,” Liam pipes up with a grin.

 

“I,” everyone except Niall echoes.

 

“I’m as fit as a fiddle lads,” Niall says, patting his tummy proudly.

 

“You are,” Harry agrees and Niall beams his thanks but Harry’s not done, “a fiddle dipped in nacho sauce, covered in batter, served with a side of two of whatever everyone else is having.”

 

Louis’ laugh is the loudest of them all and he turns to muffle it in Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s hand going straight to its newly formed niche on Louis’ lower back as Niall buffets Louis’ side.

 

“I hate you lads,” he grumbles.

 

Of course what actually comes out is “I hafe oo hads” as his mouth is currently bursting with the amount of food he’s shoved in there.

 

…..

 

“What’s Lou talking to Paul about?” Harry asks the boys as he sits down to lunch.

 

Louis’ over by Paul, where he sits in amongst the kids, gesturing with his hands insistently. Harry loses his breath slightly just surveying him. The dark, green jumper contrasts with his honey toned skin and hangs loose, making him look extra cuddly. The tight, black jeans hug his thighs and calves so indecently that Harry can only dream about peeling them off later and trailing love bites up the inside of his thighs.

 

“He’s asking for another footie game after lunch,” Liam replies.

 

“He’s what?” Harry growls.

 

“C’mon Haz, it’s not so bad. You did great last time,” Niall says gently.

 

Harry looks back at him sharply.

 

“If by great you mean, missing almost every shot at the ball then yeah, I did great Niall.”

 

“What’s with the frown babe?” Louis asks, ruffling his hair as he slides in beside him.

 

Harry glares at him.

 

“More footie? Really?”

 

Louis grins.

 

“I’ll just help you again. Hey, don’t look at me like that…all betrayed,” Louis grabs his chin, “I’ve got you covered, promise.”

 

He kisses Harry then, all languid and soft, drawing it out until Harry’s just dying to take him somewhere private and thrust into him, hard and deep.

 

“Hey, enough of that,” Niall complains, pulling Harry from Louis, “there are children present.”

 

Louis reaches around Harry to pinch Niall’s cheek.

 

“Sorry bub.”

 

Harry giggles and grabs Louis hand, swinging their hands underneath the table as Louis’ ankle curls around his.

 

“I can’t believe I was rooting for you two to get together,” Niall shakes his head.

 

“You’ve upset the kid,” Harry stage whispers to Louis, “you’re going to have to get him at least two more sandwiches to make up for it.”

 

Louis chortles while Niall’s whole face perks up, his excitement at the mention of more food already replacing his annoyance. Louis leans over Harry and dumps the entirety of his lunch on Niall’s plate who grins and starts shoving things in his mouth.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Harry says angrily, “if you’re going to be playing footie, you’re going to need energy to do so.”

 

“So you’re on board with footie then?”

 

Harry groans and then leans into Niall.

 

“I can’t believe you were rooting for us either.”

 

Louis kicks his shin under the table.

 

…..

 

Harry comes out of the tent in tight blue jeans and a dark grey jumper and Louis looks him over with disapproval.

 

“Harry, what the hell are you wearing?”

 

Harry looks down at his ensemble, confused.

 

“What? What’s wrong with it? You’re wearing jeans too!”

 

Louis rolls his eyes and then steps forward, tugging on the jumper.

 

“What is this?” He asks, sounding cross as his forehead creases up angrily, “where is my jersey?”

 

“Oh,” Harry says, eyes going wide.

 

“Yeah, oh,” Louis echoes, crossing his arms as he steps back again.

 

Harry chuckles and follows the step, cradling Louis’ stubborn face in his hands.

 

“I don’t want to get it dirty Lou,” he explains.

 

Louis drops his anger at this but his face shows complete disbelief.

 

“It’s a jersey Harold! It’s meant to get dirty.”

 

Harry pouts.

 

“But it’s a present,” Harry rubs his thumb over Louis’ bare middle finger, “you’re not wearing your ring, now are you?”

 

“That’s different!”

 

“How?”

 

“Well…” Louis blusters, “it’s much more precious than a stupid jersey, now isn’t it?”

 

Harry slides his fingers through the sides of Louis’ hair, dropping a kiss to his head in response to the sweet words.

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says huskily.

 

“Harry, please.”

 

“Why is it so important to you love?” Harry questions.

 

Louis’ palm smooths up his chest.

 

“I told you….it’s not a ‘property of Louis Tomlinson’ sign exactly but…” Louis trails off.

 

Harry’s smile deepens exponentially.

 

“I see…staking a claim?” He clarifies.

 

Louis looks up at him with mischievous blue eyes and a small, pursed smile.

 

“Something like that.”

 

“In that case,” Harry says softly, reaching down to Louis’ jeans to pull the ring from his pocket and slide it back on, “I want you to wear this too.”

 

“Deal,” Louis agrees.

 

So after Harry changes into the jersey, they walk hand in hand to the clearing in the woods, smiling like absolute goofballs. Harry’s never felt so silly with emotion before.

 

The game ends up being a lot better than the last one. Before it even starts, Louis bellows out across the crowd,

 

“Harry’s on our team. If anybody has a problem with that, take it up with Paul. But in case you get confused as to which team he plays for, the name on his jersey should remind you.”

 

Harry and Niall laugh the loudest at the double entendre and Louis winks at Harry, dragging him out into the middle of the ‘field.’

 

“Now are you ready to play for the winning side, my clumsy calf?” Louis asks Harry, scrunching his fingers in the front of Harry’s top and yanking him close.

 

Harry rubs their noses together in an eskimo kiss.

 

“I’m ready to perve on your bum while you win for us, yes.”

 

Louis laughs and then brushes their lips together softly.

 

“Eyes on the ball Styles, not the bum,” he warns.

 

As Louis saunters away, probably swinging his hips intentionally, Harry calls out to him.

 

“No promises Tomlinson.”

 

Louis’ a star once more, scoring more goals off Nathan (the goal keeper) than most soccer games are used to seeing. Every time he scores, the kids give a little cheer and Harry scoops Benji up in his arms, running up to Louis so Benji can hi-5 him and he can give his superstar boyfriend a congratulatory peck. One of these times, the peck goes a bit south after Benji runs off and Louis’ tongue slips into his mouth.

 

“Don’t wait for them,” Nathan growls from the goals just behind them, “Tomlinson’s too busy kissing his boyfriend to care about the fucking game.”

 

Louis breaks off the kiss and marches over, dragging Harry behind him by the hand. He stabs his finger in the centre of Nathan’s chest and Nathan’s hazel eyes go cross eyed with anger. Harry steps slightly in front of Louis.

 

“First,” Louis says frostily, “don’t swear in front of the kids. Second,” he stabs his chest again, “you’re being a sore loser mate…in more ways than one.”

 

“Get your ass back out there then,” Nathan spits sourly, “maybe I’ll stop making cracks if you stop getting distracted.”

 

Harry says “nice pun” just to irritate him at the same time that Louis pets Harry’s curls and says, “But he’s just so pretty.” Nathan looks ready to tackle them both and they run off, hand in hand, grinning at each other like the children they really are. After that, Harry doesn’t kiss Louis, instead opting for slapping his bum. What? It’s not like regular sportsman do it any differently. If he happens to curve his palm just enough to squeeze a little as he does so, it’s only so he can hear Louis’ little gasp of pleasure and not to hear Nathan’s distant hiss in the background. Okay…so maybe it’s a bit of both.

 

Louis and Harry’s team win by a country mile. When Louis scores the last goal of the game and as the timer goes off, Harry runs towards him with an almighty whoop. He lifts Louis into the air by the waist, Louis’ hands coming to rest on his shoulders as his blue eyes flicker with soft, glowing happiness. Harry then lowers him just enough so that Louis can wrap his legs around him. After a steamy, lingering kiss, Harry lets Louis down and the kids gather round them hugging their legs and cheering  _both_  their names. This is despite the fact that Harry literally spent the whole game watching his sex-on-legs boyfriend run around the field doing all the work. He whispers exactly this in Louis’ ear and Louis turns to him with a smile in his eyes as he whispers back.

 

“If you weren’t watching me…” he says, his intensely blue eyes cutting through to Harry’s soul.

 

Harry can guess the rest of the sentence and it melts him into a puddle of mush at Louis’ feet. Now he knows the difference between Louis doing well and Louis smashing it, is his gaze alone.

 

……

 

“C’mon Harold,” Louis whines, “The movie’s probably started.”

 

Paul had decided that the last night of camp would be a movie night outside near the bonfire. He’s somehow set the projector up out there. When Harry and Louis had navigated their way off through the tents after dinner, Harry had spied the crowd of people already sitting crossed legged beneath it.

 

They’re going to be watching titanic apparently, which Harry thinks is kind of a bollocks movie for kids to watch. Not exactly the happy ending kind of thing that you’d expect to be watching on your last night and it has at least two scenes involving sex/nudity but apparently it’s secretly Paul’s favourite and he’s not budging. Not that Harry minds the movie. He likes it even. Might have cried every time he’s watched it in fact but right now, it seems a little too poignant.

 

Too star crossed lovers who can’t be together because they’re from different worlds? Then, tragedy strikes separating them forever…or at least until Rose dies and all those people from the ship are there again, including Jack and oh god…Harry’s getting teary just thinking about it as he toes on his dilapidated brown boots and messes with his hair.

 

It’s just…it’s not that he thinks he’ll get sick of coming down to Donny to see Louis once he goes back to Cheshire. It's simply that Louis seems so fatalistic about the whole thing and well, it’s not like he’s in love with Harry, the way Harry is with him and so yes, Harry is scared. Terrified actually because as much as he wants Louis always, will Louis want him always? Sure Louis said he was scared to lose him and they’ve barely been separated the past few days but if Louis’ already having doubts, there’s a chance he could close up all over again. There’s a chance that when Louis leaves this camp, he’ll forget the person he became here; the person he was always meant to be.

 

Harry has faith. Of course he has faith in Louis but he’s been through so much and Harry can’t help but think that if two people as head over heels as Rose and Jack can’t have their happy ending, maybe he and Louis can’t either. Maybe their iceberg is Louis’ past. The thought hurts too much to think about right now so Harry gives his hair one last shake and then emerges from the tent, with a complaint of “it’s alright for you, you don’t even have to try and look gorgeous. I need time Lou.”

 

Louis’ clad in the same green jumper and jeans as before the game and as Harry emerges, he crosses his arms and then clicks his tongue in annoyance.

 

“What now?” Harry sighs, looking down at his outfit.

 

He’s dressed in a white shirt with black anchors printed across it that’s unbuttoned to halfway down his chest, showing off his tattoo. He's donned his tightest jeans and has on a dark brown jacket loose and open over the shirt. Louis steps into him and guides one finger across the width of his exposed tattoo.

 

“This,” Louis says, his throat sounding constricted as he looks up at Harry with wide, blue eyes.

 

Harry’s eyebrows knit together.

 

“What about it?”

 

Louis glances around, looking for signs of people (there are none) and then leans forward, smoothing a hand down the expanse of Harry’s bare chest. He then starts dropping a line of sweet, wet kisses down to the first button that’s actually done up. Harry’s hand finds Louis' hair as he does so, his jeans feeling painfully tight all of a sudden.

 

“It makes me want to do that,” Louis says huskily, stirring Harry deeply, “and more.”

 

Louis raises up now to whisper in Harry’s ear.

 

“And I don’t want anybody else having similar thoughts Styles.”

 

Harry’s whole body shudders with the pleasure of it; the pleasure of Louis’ possessiveness and his eyes raking up and down Harry as he draws away and begins doing up Harry’s buttons. Harry stops him before he can do the last few up.

 

“It’s just two,” he says, with puppy dog eyes.

 

“Fine,” Louis agrees but his eyes are still scorching hot, “but look what you’ve done Harold.”

 

Louis takes Harry's hand and shoves it clean down the front of his pants to feel his stiffening member. Harry swallows….hard.

 

“Later,” Louis murmurs and then pulls his hand out, twining their fingers.

 

Harry’s still in a lust ridden haze as they sit down before the projector between Liam and Zayn who are cuddled into each other and Niall who’s got two bowls of popcorn in his lap. Harry’s blood finally rushes back up from his dick to his head and he yanks Louis down between his legs, closing his bent legs around him and wrapping his arms around his middle. He rests his head on Louis’ shoulder and Louis turns his head and takes his mouth, kissing him slow and deep until Zayn starts chucking pieces of popcorn at their heads. Louis glares at him.

 

“I’m trying to snog my boyfriend and you’re ruining it,” he whispers, his tone aggressive even as his hands lay themselves over Harry’s where they rest on his waist.

 

“We’re trying to watch a movie and you’re ruining it,” Zayn shoots back.

 

The two trade glares until Harry distracts Louis by kissing him again and Zayn sighs, “I give up” and buries his head in Liam’s shoulder. The movie’s up to the part where Jack first introduces himself and Harry leans forward, kissing the side of Louis’ neck before dragging his lips up to his ear to whisper, “I’m Jack Dawson.”

 

Louis looks sideways at him with a smirk.

 

“What does that make me? Rose?”

 

Harry gives him a look that says “well obviously” and Louis chuckles into his mouth as they kiss for a while, amidst Zayn’s quiet groans.

 

Now Rose is on the ship rail and Jack’s coming to her rescue.

 

“I’ve got you, I won’t let go,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ ear, drumming his fingers against Louis’ tummy, his meaning implicit in his tone.

 

He continues to whisper Jack’s words to Louis as the movie progresses, choosing the ones that are most pertinent and poignant. He edits slightly as he says the next line, turning Louis jaw so their eyes meet as he breathes the words out like the truth they are.

 

“That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this boy so much he thought he had no way out.”

 

It slices through Harry’s ribs to his heart when Louis pipes up himself, clearly knowing the movie just as well as Harry. He rubs his hand along Harry’s and speaks his own truth, his own admiration.

 

“You have a gift Jack, you do. You see people.”

 

Of course Harry whispers the accompanying line, tracing his finger along Louis’ jaw and measuring every emotion in his eyes, every hidden fleck of pain and strip of uncertainty that still flutters with the breeze.

 

“I see you,” he says, his breath fanning out across Louis’ face.

 

Louis looks a touch mesmerised as he combs through the back of Harry’s hair, pulling their foreheads together and closing his eyes for a beat, just breathing Harry in. Harry breathes him in too. Harry never wants to breathe him out. He knows this with every beat of his heart in chest. He wants Louis always. The only question is, it possible? Will Louis will let him? Does Louis believe in this just as much as he does? Okay so, more than one question...

 

“You jump, I jump remember?” Harry pleads in time with Jack.

 

Louis stiffens, sensing the tone immediately, the plea for more than his heart. The plea for Louis to believe that they can make it outside of this damn camp. Louis needs to confront his demons in a way that he hasn’t yet. Harry realises that if he had truly made peace with his past, his doubt wouldn’t be there. He’s still doubting he can be happy and he echoes Rose’s words with his own plea sharp in his tone as he looks upon the screen.

 

“It’s not up to you to save me…. _Jack_.”

 

Harry turns Louis’ head again and says with complete faith, “you’re right. Only you can do that.”

 

After that, Louis turns almost the whole way around, losing his fingers in the folds of Harry’s jacket as he brushes lazy kiss after lazy kiss over Harry’s mouth and Harry lets him, forgetting all his worry as he pulls Louis’ jumper up at the back, rubbing the skin beneath. Harry keeps one eye on the screen though and when Jack and Rose stand at the bow of the ship, Harry is sure to turn Louis back around just so he can lift his arms, their fingers tangled, as Jack does to Rose. Louis follows through with the scorching kiss. There’s some giggling as Benji points them out to his friends and Zayn moans while Liam whacks his arm, saying “look at them...look how cute they are, leave them be.”

 

Harry thinks it’s quite amusing how Paul pauses the movie at the parts not suitable for half the audience and orders them to close their eyes with a shout of, "no peeking, or else!" Harry shakes his head, thinking it’s ridiculous that Paul didn’t just choose a movie more suited to the people this camp is supposed to be for. However when Louis leans against him, looking up at Harry with stars in his eyes and whispers another of Rose’s lines, Harry wants to kiss Paul for choosing it. His heart thrums in his chest as Louis’ words trace the recesses of his soul, dragging along the parts that felt empty for so long, filling them with life and love. Filling Harry's soul up with these words that make his doubt so clear but his attachment to Harry even clearer.

 

“I want to always remember this night,” Louis sighs.

 

As the movie races towards its tragic end, Harry’s eyes are glued to the screen, watching Jack and Rose start to freeze. He doesn’t even feel Louis’ gaze until Louis turns between his legs and rubs his fingers along the tears that have already begun to fall, brushing them away, in preparation for what Harry knows is coming.

 

“You’re crying,” Louis says softly, sounding oddly frustrated, “god dammit Harry.”

 

“What?” Harry says, his voice thick with tears.

 

“I-“ Louis cuts himself off, looking unsure and then presses firm lips to Harry’s mouth, “I don’t know if I’ll ever meet someone so invested in other people’s lives again. I don’t know if I want to.”

 

Jack is being firm with Rose on the screen, urging her not to give up and Harry does the same, gripping the front of Louis’ jumper tight in his fist as he pushes back the tears in order to speak clearly.

 

“Don’t you say your goodbyes, not yet…do you understand me?”

 

Louis frowns.

 

“Harry, we’re not Jack and-“

 

But Harry continues, reciting the words from memory, the words that he feels flowing through his fingers to Louis’ face as he reaches up to cradle it, trying to convince him. Trying to convince him of their bond but also of his worth, the importance of his life and everything he’s yet to accomplish. Harry's green eyes reflect the deep value of Louis’ existence and the miraculous beauty of his soul in amongst the floundering mess it became after being battered so badly.

 

“You must do me this honour... you must promise me that you’ll survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise. Never let go.”

 

Harry pushes his fingers harder against Louis’ cheeks and Louis’ hands come up to his wrists, seemingly about to pull them away but instead he drops his hand to Harry’s chest, placing his palm against Harry’s heart.

 

“I promise. I will never let go, Harry. I'll never let go,” he says, a slight break in his voice.

 

The last line shared between them comes from Louis and he turns full in Harry's arms, sliding his thumbs along the places where Harry’s dimples would usually be and shifting his eyes across Harry’s with so much certainty. There’s the traces of tears forming and Harry reaches up to catch them as they brim over, the two of them hypnotised by the music…the story…..the beginning of the end of this little world they’ve shared for a month. Louis’ proclamation comes out of his mouth in a mere whisper that barely carries even though his face rests just a few centimetres away...yet it feels like a shout into the void. It feels like words weighted down with meaning. It tastes like goodbye. It reeks of loss but Harry can’t find it within himself to protest in this moment. For the first time in his life, in his life of trying to help people, change them and make things better, for the first time he feels like he truly got inside someone’s heart and healed from within.

 

“But now you know... there was a man named Harry Styles,” Louis says, blue eyes bulging with a thick layer of tears that he won’t release, “and he saved me, in every way that a person can be saved…..he exists now….only in my memory.”

 

Harry carries Louis to bed and Louis doesn’t even protest, apparently tired from the emotional exchange that they shared for a couple of hours or so. In fact, he pulls at Harry’s shirt, nestling his head in closer to Harry’s shoulder as Harry carries him, gazing down at his face so lovingly that he almost walks right past their tent.

 

Despite Louis’ earlier promise of ‘later,’ he doesn’t try anything with Harry and Harry doesn’t broach the subject either. The mood has turned slightly sombre as they lay side by side, having pulled their sleeping bags next to each other to make a proper bed. Harry traces the apple shaped curve of Louis’ cold, tanned cheek with the tips of his fingers, his heart straining in his chest as Louis’ tears roll across his fingers. Harry’s own quiet tears melt against the pillow and then Louis’ hand is in his hair, stroking and petting and it feels so familiar, so much like what he should fall asleep to every night for the rest of his life, that Harry feels sick at the thought of leaving tomorrow.

 

 It’s an hour and a half at the most surely. It’s not a gruesome trip to make at all. So why does this suddenly feel like the titanic sinking, like that last moment where it tipped on its side and just hung there for a minute before it started to submerge? Maybe it’s the defeat colouring Louis’ eyes or the fact that Harry can’t foresee what will happen once they leave this place. Maybe it’s the threat of Louis’ past swallowing him whole again or any number of things coming between them. This thing between them is so strong, bonds formed out of raw connection and desperate touch but Harry knows…he knows that nothing is set in stone. Then, he opens his mouth and begins to sing, a tremulous note to his voice.

 

 _Every night in my dreams_  
I see you, I feel you  
that is how I know you go on

 _Far across the distance_  
and spaces between us  
you have come to show you go on

 _Near, far, wherever you are_  
I believe that the heart does go on  
Once more you open the door  
and you're here in my heart  
and my heart will go on and on

 _Love can touch us one time_  
and last for a lifetime  
and never let go till we're gone

 _Love was when I loved you_  
one true time I hold to  
in my life we'll always go on

 _Near, far, wherever you are_  
I believe that the heart does go on  
Once more you open the door  
and you're here in my heart  
and my heart will go on and on

 _You're here, there's nothing I fear_  
And I know that my heart will go on  
We'll stay forever this way  
You are safe in my heart  
And my heart will go on and on.

Louis cries throughout, petting at Harry’s hair more quickly as if trying to calm himself, as if trying to convince himself that Harry’s still here within reach…at least for the time being. Harry pulls Louis into his arms now, kissing his shoulder and his neck before brushing away his tears. Then he kisses his lips, with all his pain and love burning through his mouth into Louis.’

“I love you,” Harry says, voice cracking as he kisses Louis’ forehead.

Louis doesn’t say anything back this time either but his eyes seize up briefly, his bottom lip trembling and he spreads his fingers over Harry’s heart once more before settling his head down against the space between Harry’s shoulder and neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Harry holds him that way, stroking his lower back to calm him until the shaking stops and he pulls back a little to find Louis' eyelids closed, although still quite tense, even in sleep. Harry remembers the first time he held Louis and how sacred it was. That precious, ethereal moment of vulnerability that he’d clutched to his chest so tight, afraid of it shattering before his eyes. Now Louis offers it all to him. All but his love and faith…perhaps the only two things that really matter. Harry falls asleep with the tears still drying on his face.

_Day Twenty Eight_

Harry wakes up with Louis’ head buried in his shoulder, one of his hands lost in Louis’ hair, the other pressed into his back holding him against his own body. Their feet are tangled together and Harry can hear Louis’ quiet breaths that indicate he’s still asleep. Harry wants to wake up like this every day. He doesn’t want to go back to Cheshire. Back to uni and the bakery. Back to a life he enjoyed but was never satisfied with. He wants this and only this. Nothing feels as right as when Louis’ hand starts to pull on his shirt as he nestles himself closer, his lips pushing against the line of Harry’s throat as he sighs in sleep. Harry’s completely enchanted by it. He’s enamoured and yet today, he has to drive back home which feels a world of way from this perfect moment.

“Haz,” Louis suddenly mumbles, his lips tickling Harry’s throat slightly.

His voice is husky and sleep hazed. Harry draws back to gaze at him. Louis looks so very kissable with bleary blue eyes that keep slipping closed and fuzzy hair that sticks out at odd angles. Harry kisses him good morning with a slow pull of his tongue and a hand lightly tugging on his hair where it belongs. Louis makes a pleased, little noise in the back of his throat.

“Good morning,” Harry murmurs.

Louis strokes his cheek, his eyes a little more lively now as he smiles, slightly sad but just as beautiful as always.

“I love waking up to you,” Louis says, throatily.

Harry presses against him again, their mouths greedy for each other already and when Louis’ hand starts to undo the buttons on his shirt, he only returns the favour, popping the button on Louis’ jeans. They pause for a moment, eyeing each other openly and then there are clothes flying and it’s Louis’ pushing him down against the sleeping bag and sucking him down straight away as Harry’s hand flies to his hair and his hips push up frantically.

“Lou,” he moans, his eyelashes fluttering as the heat builds inside his groin.

Louis takes his mouth off for a moment and Harry cries out.

“You need to quieten down babe,” Louis says with a tilt of his head and a fond smile, “you’ll wake up the kiddies.”

“Sorry,” Harry pants, as he feels his cock dripping pre come.

This makes Louis’ smile grow wider and then he resumes his task, sucking Harry down so quickly that Harry can’t help but convulse and moan like a bloody porn star. Louis trails his hand up Harry’s body and dips his middle finger into Harry’s mouth. Harry knows it’s to shut him up but it’s the finger on which Louis wears his ring so Harry sucks it hard into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the outside of the ring as he makes eye contact with Louis, who's bobbing on his dick. Harry moans around the finger and Louis quickens his pace, his other hand dropping to his own cock, working it over fast. When Louis pulls off, Harry’s hips jerk up expectantly, needing that warmth back. Louis pats his hip soothingly.

“Soon,” he promises, “just need you to open me up first babe.”

Harry groans at the request and then Louis lowers himself just above Harry’s face. Harry licks into him with a vengeance until the tight puckered hole is slick and loose enough for his liking.

“Ride me,” he begs Louis raggedly, his breath ghosting across Louis’ bum.

Louis shivers and then slides down Harry’s body, resting his palms on Harry’s chest as he rises up over Harry’s dick and then without any hesitation at all, with his eyes burning into Harry’s, slides all the way down until the base of his cock hits Harry’s stomach and Harry’s completely enveloped in his tight, warmth. It feels amazing.

“You’re-“Harry’s speech cuts off as Louis bounces on him, spreading his fingers out across Harry’s pectorals, “Fuck, Lou.”

“When people ask you why you won’t take your scarf off,” Louis breathes, leaning over Harry to whisper in his ear, “you’ll remember this. You’ll remember you’re mine…. mine…do you hear me?”

“Why would I need a-oh god,” Harry’s eyes fall shut as Louis clenches around him, “scarf?”

“Because,” Louis pauses and then closes his mouth over Harry’s neck, sucking hard, “you’ll want to cover that.”

“I-“

Harry loses the power of speech, his hips flying up to meet Louis’ as Louis cries out at the way Harry hits his prostate just right.

“Shh darling,” Harry teases, rocking up into Louis again who virtually sobs his pleasure against Harry’s neck, “you’ll wake the kiddies.”

Louis manages to sit upright again but Harry just encircles his dick, squeezing slightly and delighting in the way Louis eyes pop as he rises up and lowers himself back down quicker with every slip of Harry’s hand over his swollen member.

“Harry I think I’m gonna come,” Louis moans, throwing his head back, looking like a man possessed.

He’s stunning. It’s all Harry can think, even as his dick throbs with pleasure….it’s all he can do not to promise to devote every passing moment of his life to adoring the godlike creature before him right then and there. As it is, he can’t contain his reverence quite as effectively as he’d hoped.

“I love you,” he says, breathlessly, deliriously.

To his utter shock, Louis’ hips still and he shudders, coming apart before Harry’s eyes with an anguished, yet somehow exhilarated cry of pleasure. He shakes against Harry’s chest, come still streaming and his pleasure is all a bit too much. Harry grips Louis’ lower back, holding him close as he comes inside with one last thrust and a moan of epic proportions.

When it’s all done and dusted, Harry pulls out of Louis and then rolls them both over, Louis’ legs clinging to his waist as Harry plants kisses all over his hair.

“Amazing,” Harry sighs, finally meeting Louis’ eyes which are equally blissed out, “amazing.”

Harry decides not to ask if it was his declaration that sent Louis over the edge. It’s a nice thought but it’s one he can’t entertain right now. He doesn’t want to hear the answer unless it’s the equivalent of, “of course Harold…because I love you too.” His heart doesn’t want any less than that. They fall back asleep for a while, clutching each other tight and Harry knows that as long as he lives, he’ll never find another lullaby quite like Louis’ heartbeat.

…

When Harry wakes, Louis’ already up so Harry hurries through his shower, pulling on the only pair of skinnies he hasn’t worn yet and a faded blue and black flannel top that he barely buttons. He makes it out to the river quite quickly, knowing instantly that it’s where Louis will be. When he crashes into the clearing, Louis’ deep blue denim jacket bunches around his waist as he turns, the same black t-shirt that he wore that first day beneath it.

“Louis?” Harry says questioningly, the memory of the first time he came across him here, playing in his mind.

It was back when he felt transfixed by the beauty and the emotions storming inside those blue yes but didn’t quite know why. It was back before he fell in love with the way Louis’ laugh can be husky and sexy, or coy and completely adorable…and then more commonly, both at the same time. It was before Louis opened his mouth and let all his secret pain escape. It was before Harry held him as he cried and before they explored each other’s bodies with desperate touches and even more desperate looks. It was before he knew that Louis Tomlinson would change his whole perspective just by existing.

“What are you doing?” He asks, as he comes to sit by Louis, taking his hand and playing with it in his lap.

He knows the answer really. He saw it in Louis’ sombre expression. He’s saying goodbye again.

“Remembering,” Louis says and his voice rasps painfully as if he’s been crying again.

Harry’s thumb brushes across the side of his cheek and his expression melts into pure love as Louis head tilts into his palm.

“I want you to know-“Louis starts.

“No,” Harry growls, pressing his fingers hard into the side of Louis’ face, “no last words. I’m not saying my last words and neither are you.”

Louis turns to face him now with leaking eyes that make Harry’s heart leak all over the place too. It’s like Louis’ heart is chained to his and even a touch of misery breaking in Louis’ blue eyes feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

“Harry, please,” he begs quietly, “just let me say this.”

Harry never could deny the ones he loves anything. He nods his head woodenly, watching Louis closely who swallows and then wraps his hands around Harry’s neck, stroking the lines of tension in Harry’s throat.

“I want-I want you to know that it wasn’t any one thing you tried. It wasn’t just you being honest with me or kind to me or letting the words come out on their own that made me speak. It wasn’t simply what you did because….it was who you are. It was wanting you and everything inside you more than I wanted to stay locked in this world I’d created for myself where nobody could get in,” Louis studies Harry for a moment, his eyes watering just as Harry’s do, “I resisted only because I knew you were the one with the power to change everything. And you did. You changed every fibre of my body Harry.”

“I wish I could tell you-“ Harry’s voice breaks and he buries his face in his hands, slightly ashamed until Louis pulls at his wrists and smiles at him, so soft, “how you did the same for me. Every time you kiss me, I feel like I’m moving further from who I used to be in the best way possible. I said to you awhile back that if I met  _him_ , that person to make me feel something I hadn’t before, it would be like nothing else existed and nothing else had to...and that’s what I feel whenever I’m with you. Like the whole world could melt away so long as I still had you.”

It’s another huge statement but Harry won’t take it back and it seems Louis doesn’t want him to as he grips the front of Harry’s shirt, pulling him into a passionate kiss that lasts until they both run of air. It’s goodbye. It’s their goodbye. Harry feels it deep in his bones that this is where the sad music starts playing with a montage of their time together. This is where Louis’ first words come back to him and ‘wicked game’ plays in the background. This is where it all starts to crumble around them as reality sets in.

…..

“Heard you this morning you know,” Liam says, quite matter of fact, as he joins the rest of them at the bench for their last lunch together, “quite the goodbye that was. You are aware it’s only an hour between you?”

Louis’ hand finds Harry’s under the table and he squeezes it as he looks up at Liam, with a downward tilt to his mouth.

“It’s not the time or distance. It’s like….it’s like when you had that neighbour when you were little who was your best friend. You did everything together and you couldn’t imagine ever having another best friend. Then they moved away…just a couple of towns, an easy enough distance for your parents to drive you across but even though you promised you’d see each other every weekend and be best friends until you were as old as your parents....you never saw them again, did you?”

“Christ Lou, that’s fucking bleak as hell,” Zayn says from beside Liam, pointing at Harry’s defeated expression, “you’ve even bloody diminished the hope in Harry’s eye and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“No,” Harry protests, looking directly at Louis as he speaks, “I still believe. Maybe the reason it feels so much like a goodbye is because… it is a goodbye...just not forever. He’s not getting rid of me that easy.”

Louis leans close and kisses him tenderly.

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he says, looking up at Harry with liquid blue eyes.

“Good,” Harry says approvingly, kissing him back.

“Frankly I think these two ‘ave got a better chance than you two,” Niall says with a grin, jabbing his thumb in Harry and Louis’ direction whose lips are still only a breath apart as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

“Excuse you,” Zayn scoffs, pulling Liam in at the waist, “I asked Li to move in with me last night.”

“It worked,” Niall cackles.

“Congratulations!” Louis and Harry say at the same time, smiling at their synchronicity. 

“It worked?” Zayn questions, looking over at Niall like he’s gone bonkers.

“Knew something was up with you two because Liam’s doing that thing where he twitches his head to the side which means you’ve got your hand somewhere it shouldn’t be and the only other times Liam has let you do that was when you’d just proven yourself commitment wise. Knew you'd arc up and tell us if I questioned your commitment.”

The four boys stare at Niall with disbelief.

“What?” He says, completely nonplussed.

“You know too much,” Zayn exclaims, “how on earth did you figure this out?”

Niall shrugs and then grins around his newest mouthful of food, making the other boys cringe.

“How does a lone wolf know where its pack is? It hears them moaning in the distance.”

“Niall,” Harry shakes his head at the boy with an amused smirk, “wolves don’t moan, they howl.”

“You’re right H,” Niall nods very seriously but then his blue eyes fill with humour once more as he leans into Louis and looks up at him with a manic grin, “but Louis sure does.”

After that, lunch descends into chaos as Louis mashes half his lunch in Niall’s hair and Niall laughs until he’s so red in the face, he doesn’t look Irish anymore. It’s the kind of group hangout Harry can imagine having with these four boys way into the future. He can imagine cooking for them all and staving Louis off as he tries to help and then eventually gives up and hoists himself up onto the counter, watching Harry with a playful and deliciously cute expression as he swings his feet. He can imagine Niall bursting through their door (yes, he meant their) with half of Tesco’s food supplies in his arms and a grin on his face already as he makes himself at home on the couch with the strongest drink he can find and Harry’s guitar in his lap. He imagines Zayn and Liam coming late because Zayn will be too busy fixing his hair and Liam will smile and apologise while Zayn complains about how disgusting Harry and Louis are when they smile at each other, completely in love, across the kitchen.

They’ll all sit down to dinner and Harry will find Louis’ hand under the table and Louis will smile at him, sugary sweet as their rings rub against each other. It will be bliss. It will be Harry and Louis' family of five before they’re ready to create a new one and even then, the boys will be there to babysit and celebrate their kid’s birthdays as unofficial uncles. Looking around at the four of them now, Harry is sure this is not the end for them. He may have only met three of these lads a month ago but it feels like the perfect combination; the perfect band of brothers.

……

“I’ll see you back home mate,” Niall bellows despite the fact that he’s speaking directly into Harry’s ear as they embrace in a loose hug.

“We’ll get a pint, yeah?” Harry asks, conveying with his eyes how important it is that Niall say yes.

Being away from Louis now is going to feel like torture and Harry’s not even sure when he’ll be able to get down to see him. His hours at the bakery are about to pick up and he’s got loads of uni work to keep him busy. It pains him to think it could be a while before they’re reunited.

“Course H,” Niall says with a nod to indicate he understands, “Just text me.”

Harry smiles and Niall jumps onto the shiny red bus beside them, waving to Harry as he walks down to the back. Next to say goodbye are Zayn and Liam who both hug him close, Zayn even tighter than Liam which is entirely unexpected.

“I’m surprised you drove Harry,” Liam says with what might be disapproval.

God knows why.

“I like the open road. Time to think,” Harry says by way of explanation.

Now he’s just glad he’ll have some space to himself if it all gets too much. Space to break down a little without anyone there to shame him for it.

“You’re odd Harry,” Zayn says with a slow, curling smile as he grips his shoulder, “but I like you. I think we’ll keep you.”

Harry returns the smile.

“Thanks Zayn and uh…I’m glad you two,” Harry’s gaze shifts to Liam and back, “got it together.”

“We owe you for that one,” Liam says kindly.

“We’ll see you soon okay mate,” Zayn says, stepping onto the bus and dragging Liam with him, “when you come down to see Louis.”

“We’ll double date."

There's more than a glimmer of excitement in Liam's tone that makes Zayn roll his eyes, even as his fingers trail their way up and down his side.

“Sounds great,” Harry calls back, waving them off with a bit of a lump in his throat.

After all, he doesn’t know when he’ll see his new friends again either.

Finally, it’s Paul who grabs Harry and squeezes the life out of him much to Harry’s shock, whispering in his ear, “you did it mate, you saved that boy from himself” before jumping on the bus that pulls away almost as soon as the doors shut behind him. Harry waves until the bus is gone from sight and then he turns and makes his way back to camp, through the woods and up to the hill.

The sun is setting over the trees like a last slither of the perfect extended moment they enjoyed over the last few weeks. Not that it was all perfect. Harry could probably have a full bath with all of the tears and it wasn’t as if there weren’t awful misunderstandings but even in those moments, there was something brewing. Something intense and permanent that he feels flowing through his veins now as he approaches the petite figure, swinging his legs over the edge of the peak.

“You’ve been up here since they started packing up…did you even say goodbye?” Harry asks Louis as he seats himself beside him.

Louis turns to him, the sun reflecting off his eyes so they look like mirrors of the landscape, shining bright with tears.

“The boys came and saw me before they left. Brought Benji with them,” Louis says, sounding solemn.

“Are you,” Harry’s throat closes over a little but he pushes through, “are you going to leave soon?”

“Thought I’d stay here a while,” Louis says, gazing out at the sky as a single tear leaks down the side of the cheek closest to Harry, “because it’ll never be like this again. Once I leave here, it’s over. This is….just a memory.”

Harry turns Louis head and presses his thumbs to his cheekbones, memorising the curves as he rubs his thumbs from one side of his cheek to the other, his own tears brimming over now.

“Of course it will never be the same,” he says voice rough, “it will never be like this….but that doesn’t mean it will cease to exist. Just because you won’t be coming back to camp, doesn’t mean you can’t come back here…or that _we_ can’t, even if it’s just in our minds. It doesn’t mean that this is all null and void.”

“Harry.”

His name is a broken plea in Louis’ mouth and Harry gathers him close, stroking the back of his head as he tries not to fall apart. Louis’ shaking in his grasp and then he’s pulling back suddenly, tugging at Harry’s hands to remove them.

“You should go,” he says, hiccupping slightly as tears slide down his face.

Harry reaches out to catch them.

“I’m not leaving you-“

“Go, Harry,” Louis cuts him off, voice hard even as tears speed down, “I want you to go.”

It’s those words that tear at Harry’s soul because here Louis is locking him out all over again because he’s scared. Locking him out because it’s easier…because there are no guarantees. Harry can’t stop him when he’s barely holding it together himself. In this moment, he does what he swore he would never do with Louis…he gives up.

“O..okay,” he stutters out, his heart breaking, the beaten fragments of his arterial walls floating through his bloodstream as his emerald green eyes fill with broken tears.

Louis’ adam’s apple bobs now and his eyes widen and freeze, as if surprised Harry didn’t try anything further. Still, he doesn’t stop Harry as he stands, looking down at the boy who he loves so much but who doesn’t love him. For if he did, he wouldn’t push Harry away like this…he would believe in them as much as Harry does. Harry trips more times than he can count on his way back down to camp, letting out a frustrated sob every time, hitting out against tree trunks in anger and raking a shaking hand through his curls every time. By the time he makes it to his car, he’s simply exhausted. He can’t cry anymore and he doesn’t know if he’ll even make it home safe in this state.

Darkness is just setting in, the moon hanging in the sky like a pale, omniscient witness to his despair. Louis’ car is parked behind his but Harry refuses to even look at it. He forms a bed with his arms and rests them against the car, leaning his head against them as he tries to find a way to compose himself. A way to make it through the drive without veering off the road and hurting someone else. He doesn’t think that he could hurt anymore himself. God, how did he get himself into this mess? One month gone and he’s fallen for a boy he didn’t know from atom a few weeks ago.

“Harry.”

Harry rips his head away from his arms and when he turns around, Louis is there with red rimmed blue eyes and a shaking bottom lip. He pushes Harry up against his car and kisses him with bruising passion, sliding his mouth over Harry’s bottom lip and sucking on his tongue until Harry finally pushes him away.

“Louis, what-“

“Harry,” Louis sighs, “I’m such an idiot. Forgive me.”

Harry’s chest heaves up and down as he stays silent, protecting himself. Louis grasps his cheek in his palm as he pleads with leaden blue eyes that tug at Harry’s heart.

“Forgive me baby.”

Harry had thought there was no liquid left in his body but his eyes fill and it brims over, Louis brushing the tears away with soft fingers and such tenderness in his look that Harry can scarcely catch his breath.

“Harry,” Louis says, taking a deep breath now as he looks up at Harry, taking his hands, with a smile tugging at the corners of his tiny mouth, “I said to you once…maybe people just get hurt over and over because I didn’t know anything but pain. I didn’t believe like you did…” he looks down, his wet eyelashes fluttering as the smile dims a little, “maybe I still don’t but I, I know what I want and Haz-“

He breaks off as his eyes meet Harry’s. His fingers tighten in Harry’s and his eyes tighten too, holding in the tears. Harry runs his thumbs across his palms, letting him know its okay. Letting him know he can say anything and Harry will still be here.

“You said…maybe you don’t notice it changing you until it already has,” Louis chokes out and it takes Harry a second to place the words back to that night on the hill, the same night Louis said maybe people just get hurt over and over, “you said it doesn’t really ask permission. I wished this whole time it did…because I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know if I deserved to…feel that way. I didn’t know how to contain it and not be eaten alive because it’s huge. It’s this big thing inside me that only expands further every time I look at you...it's this thing that constricts my throat and tightens my stomach and every breath,” Louis sucks in for a moment and then exhales the rest, “it’s you. Every ray of sunlight on my skin feels like you, it's always you now and Harry, I-“

“You what?” Harry asks, dazed, caught in this confession…this utterance of a reverence Harry had thought he was perhaps alone in.

Louis reaches up and pulls his hands through the sides of Harry’s hair like a hairdresser deciding which strands to cut. Then, he presses up and Harry’s hands find his waist as they melt into a kiss. Louis pulls back just enough to look into Harry’s eyes, shifting from one to the other, looking for something Harry can't decipher. His eyes squeeze momentarily with the onset of his tears and he’s so beautifully vulnerable, Harry can’t stand to be this close to him. 

“I’m in love with you,” Louis sighs, petting the side of Harry’s hair, “I love you too.”

Harry wraps him up in his arms and sobs into his shoulder as the words soak into his soul and Louis’ tears soak into his shirt. After some time, they pull away and Louis traces Harry’s jaw line with his finger before bringing their mouths together in a lingering kiss.

“You should go,” Louis breathes but it’s said with love and cautious hope.

Harry climbs into his car slowly and winds down the window. A breeze ruffles the ends of Louis’ hair as he leans in against the window and kisses Harry, just one brush of their lips that leaves Harry wanting more, so much more. Harry hears the echo of himself and Liam in his head as he gazes at the blue eyed, elfin boy.

_So what’s this kid’s name?_

_Louis. Louis Tomlinson._

“I love you,” Harry says desperately, panic clawing up his chest as with shaking hands he starts the car.

 _It’s not the end. It’s not the end. It’s not the end._ He chants to himself. Louis motions for him to wind up the window and when Harry does, he mouths “ _I love you”_ and then steps back. With a shaky sob, Harry closes his eyes, assuring himself he’ll be right back here as soon as he can. He’s not that neighbour that never comes back. He’s not. He’s determined to be the love of Louis’ life. His eyes flash open and with a little wave and one last fond look, one last smile, one last mental picture of deep, deep blue eyes….he drives off. As the denim jacket fades into dark and the camp disappears in his rear vision mirror, Harry let’s just one more tear escape.

“Goodbye Louis Tomlinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought/your feels as always and remember it's NOT the end guys! So don't hate me too much :) xo


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW FIC COMING TOMORROW :)

_Epilogue_

Harry's breath hitches and then he wrenches himself up, sweat beading on his skin as he squeezes the coverlet around him. His erratic breathing fills the silence in the room as he searches the sheets next to him and finds them cold and bare. As they have been for far too long. The ache in his chest is more persistent than ever and even as he spots the red digits on his clock that light up the darkness, he grabs his phone. He dials the first name in his favourites and waits with bated breath until he hears the ringing stop.  
  
"It's 4 am," the weary voice remarks, sounding like someone drained all the moisture from his body.  
  
"I thought I told you to have some water before you fall asleep. I even sent you that water emoji to remind you…and I don't use emojis," Harry admonishes.  
  
"Babe," Louis sighs, "are you really telling me off for not drinking water at 4 am in the morning? What are you doing up?"  
  
"I had a bad dream," Harry says in a tiny voice, "Then I woke up and you weren't here."  
  
There's a loud sigh and then some rustling of blankets. Harry can just imagine Louis sitting up against his headboard, bare chested with the coverlet pulled up half way. Looking like a sleep ruffled prince. A year of dating him and Harry still yearns to kiss him more than he yearns for almost anything else. A year of being together and Harry still finds the separation just as torturous.

Camp wasn't the end like Louis had feared and Harry had tried not to. Ove the past year, Harry has spent as little time at uni and the bakery as he could get away with and Louis has been coming to see him whenever he was able but still, time constraints are harsh and neither of them has an endless supply of money for petrol. They are just uni students after all.  
  
"I miss you too Harry," Louis says softly and as Harry lies down, curling up on his side, he closes his eyes and pretends Louis is right there with him, whispering in his ear.  
  
"I hate this," he grits out, his heart straining.  
  
"We'll be together soon," Louis soothes, "I promise I'm coming up this weekend."  
  
"You said that last weekend," Harry reminds him, a bitter edge to his tone, "I haven't see you in a month."  
  
"You know I had assignments. I couldn't just drop everything to be with you. I had work too. You know it's just as hard on me as it is you Harry."  
  
Louis sounds frustrated with him and Harry hates the sound. He doesn't want them to fight. He just wants things to be how they were in the beginning, cooped up on one sleeping bag, cuddling into each other because they couldn't get close enough.  
  
"I just-" Harry breaks off, takes a deep calming breath, "I just don't know when this ends. I finish uni in a month and I'm supposed to start work under somebody in the psych ward. I mean, that's going to be more hours than the uni and the bakery put together."  
  
"I know," Louis says and Harry can hear the defeat in his tone, the urge to get it all over with now before they both lose their minds.  
  
"Don't do that Louis," Harry growls.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't you dare give up on us. I want this. You want this. It can work-"  
  
"Harry," Louis interrupts, sounding broken, "maybe what we want and what we can have are two different things."  
  
"Maybe people just get hurt over and over?" Harry echoes angrily.  
  
"Bye Harry," Louis says with a quick breath.  
  
"Louis-"  
  
But it's too late. The line goes dead and when Harry tries to call back, Louis' turned his phone off. Harry leaves too many messages anyway and then tosses and turns until he's forced to get up, feeling like absolute manure for the rest of the day.

…..

“Harry,” Jay exhales as she opens the door and it sounds like she’s been holding her breath for the past month.

It’s been four weeks. 30 days. Harry couldn’t believe it at first…that Louis wouldn’t answer his phone or reply to his texts. Then he’d realised how much it took for Louis to trust him when they first met and how much doubt he’d had in his beautiful mind when they’d first parted. Despite the effort they’d put in, all his doubts had been confirmed. It was just too damn hard. Harry had a life in Holmes Chapel and Louis had a life in Doncaster and that was all there was to it. How could they possibly bridge that gap?

 Now here Harry is, standing on his boyf- his ex…no Harry refuses to call Louis his ex-anything, his boyfriend’s doorstep, with a plan. A crazy plan that could go south very fast but a plan nonetheless.

“Is…is he here?” Harry asks with a constricted throat.

Harry hadn’t known whether to dress up or dress down. He didn’t want to look like he expected anything but nor did he care to look like he wasn’t going to try. He’d gone for a floral patterned shirt unbuttoned over a white singlet with blue jeans and dark boots.

“He told me if you came-“

“To tell me to go away. Jay, do you think I’m going to listen? Are you really going to help him push me away?” Harry questions her.

Jay tilts her head, her dark hair falling sideways as she considers the question.

“Louis,” she shouts as she twists her body backward and cups her hands over her mouth, making the noise louder, “it’s Karen.”

There’s the sound of bare feet slapping against the floorboards and Harry’s heart beats double time as Louis suddenly appears at the end of the hallway.

“We’re supposed to have lunch wed-“Louis’ speech cuts off and he stops dead in his tracks, staring at Harry like a deer caught in headlights.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Jay says quietly, giving Harry’s arm a squeeze before she turns and moves past Louis, leaving the two of them alone.

Louis doesn’t come any closer but he doesn’t turn and leave and Harry takes that as a promising sign. Harry’s own breath is coming slightly faster now as he looks over his boyfriend with greedy eyes, absorbing every feature and every patch of golden skin that he’s missed so very dearly this past month. Louis’ legs are hugged by plum coloured jeans that finish just before his ankles. His tiny ankles. He’s got on a white t-shirt that draws Harry’s eyes to his biceps that look even bigger than the last time he saw him. Bloody Liam. It’s not helping his concentration any that Louis looks fitter than ever. He’s wearing braces the same colour as his jeans and his fringe is sweeping down against his forehead, slightly spiky at the ends. Harry wants to run his fingers through it. Those luminous blue eyes peruse his body too, catching on his thighs and his exposed tattoo before flicking up to his face.

“Hi Lou,” Harry says finally, a tentative smile curling around his lips.

Louis doesn’t smile back. He crosses his arms and remains where he is, trying to affect disinterest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m-I need to talk to you,” Harry blusters, taking a tiny step forward and resting his forearm on the outside of the doorjamb.

Louis rolls his eyes as if Harry’s hesitance is unwarranted and then closes the distance between them, mimicking Harry’s pose on the inside of the doorway.

“So talk,” he says, suddenly sounding much softer as his eyes fall across Harry’s face, taking him in.

God, he’s so close. Harry could just tug on his braces and pull him into a kiss right here, right now…but he knows he can’t. Not yet. Not until he erases any doubt in Louis’ mind.

“Not here,” Harry breathes, “I want to take you somewhere. Just for a bit.”

Louis’ eyes seize up a little with tension and he pulls away slightly. Harry doesn’t realise he’s hooked a finger in Louis’ belt loop to pull him back, until Louis looks down and spies it himself. To his surprise, without raising his head, Louis nods.

“I’ll just get my jacket and some shoes,” he says in a low tone and then turns and walks quickly away, Harry’s hand falling from its place in his belt loop.

……

“What is this? Why are we here?” Louis asks with suspicion, looking up at the complex.

Harry pauses with his finger on the touch pad where he’s inputting the code and turns back to Louis with a slightly mischievous smile.

“You’ll see.”

Louis sighs his impatience and Harry trills a laugh just as the door swings open and he guides Louis inside with a hand to his lower back. It gives him hope that Louis’ only response is to move slower, as if to prolong the touch. Harry offers his hand as they reach the base of the stairs and Louis takes it, their fingers winding together like they were never truly apart. Harry feels the cool metal on Louis’ ring brush the inside of his finger and he smiles minutely as they mount the stairs. Louis didn’t take it off. Louis still believes.

“What are you smiling at Harold?” Louis asks, trailing close behind him.

Harry turns slightly and finds Louis’ mouth twitching too…just like it used to every time Harry was happy. They were always so in tune with each other. There was always a fondness in Louis’ tiny twitches and the lines around his blue eyes that is still there now as he awaits Harry’s reply.

“Nothing,” Harry shakes his head, his smile only growing, “nothing at all.”

When they finally reach the door, Harry pulls the key from his jeans and twists it in the lock, watching some kind of realisation dawn on Louis’ face as he stares at Harry with wide eyes. Harry pulls him into the flat and then flicks the light switch, kicking the door shut behind them.

“Welcome,” Harry announces, letting go of Louis’ hand to spread his arms wide, “to my humble abode.”

Louis follows Harry, walking further into the apartment, looking shell-shocked as he takes it all in. There’s a kitchen to the left done in charcoal grey with a huge walk in pantry and a long stone bench. To the right, is the adjoining living area that houses a recliner the same colour as the kitchen and a matching arm chair. There’s a small plasma TV screen and a cabinet holding some fine china that Harry had inherited from his grandparents. There’s a few photos on top of the cabinet of himself and Niall and himself with his family but front and centre is the one he took with Louis when they went to Paris on their uni break. They’re both bundled up in dark scarves and beanies and Louis’ gloved hands are pressed to his cheeks as they kiss upon the Eiffel tower, Harry holding his arm out to snap the picture.

There’s a bedroom leading off the living room, the ajar door revealing a king size bed and a classic looking record player. Plus, a small slither of white from the adjoining bathroom. One morning in Harry’s bed when Harry had been showing Louis his record collection, Louis had confessed he really wanted to make love to Harry’s favourite records. Of course at the time Harry had barely had enough money for petrol, let alone a record player but he’d searched night and day to find this one on eBay, at an affordable price.

 Last but not least, there’s the other room leading off the living room through which a small sliver of the baby grand piano inside can be glimpsed. In the months following camp, Louis had begun to express a desire to play again but he refused to take lessons, feeling like it was somehow a betrayal of Elliot’s tutoring and the closest thing he had at home to a piano was the toy keyboard Jay had bought the twins.

The piano hadn’t been cheap. Not at all. Yet Harry had worked tirelessly at the bakery, taking on a second job at Tesco’s and using a chunk of the money from his grandparents to purchase it. Louis’ spinning around now, quite comically, his blue eyes stretched wide with disbelief. It’s starting to make Harry dizzy so he cups Louis’ shoulders to stop him, his thumbs instinctually moving to stroke the lines of tension in them.

“Harry,” Louis says, sounding strangled, “this is….did you…what did…are you-“

“I don’t want to be away from you anymore,” Harry cuts him off, framing Louis’ cheeks with his hands, “I’m moving here. In fact, as of today, I have moved. I got a job with child services, it’s not in Donny as such…it’s just outside…but it’s close. It’s so much closer.”

Louis’ hands reach up and grip the sides of his neck and he looks frenzied, panicked even.

“Harry,” he croaks, “you can’t just move here. You can’t just move here for me. That’s crazy. And the-the piano…the record player…Harry,” Louis’ voice goes soft as his thumbs knead Harry’s neck desperately, “god, you’re killing me.”

Harry’s heart aches in his chest and he can’t resist pulling Louis to him and bringing their lips together in a soft brush. Louis doesn’t fight him on it, melting into him instantly as he moulds his mouth to Harry’s.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Harry breathes, brushing their noses against each other, “I just want you to move in with me.”

“Really?” Louis says in a gasp, pulling on the front of Harry’s shirt.

The helpless plea in his baby blue eyes wrecks Harry inside. He guides his thumbs across the tan of Louis’ cheeks with love in the set of his upturned lips.

“Really,” he confirms with a breath, “mi casa es su casa…but I expected a bit more fight babe.”

Louis’ laugh is a slow trickle that trails down Harry’s spine, spreading warmth and reminding him just how much he needs that delicious sound.

“I’m,” Louis swallows and then reaches up to push Harry’s curls away from his eyes, stroking the sides of his face as he does so, “I’m…overwhelmed. This is huge Harry. It’s only been a year. Some couples don’t move in together for years.”

Harry turns his head and mouths at Louis’ palm, watching the way Louis’ whole body loosens, his eyes filling with that adoring look Harry remembers so well.

“We’re not like other couples Lou,” Harry reminds him, “we fell in love at warp speed and every moment since has been the two of us not being able to get enough. Every fight is borne from love and every time I was alone in my bed this past month, I thought of you. I thought of waking up to your arms around my chest, your breath on my shoulder. I thought of falling asleep with my arms and legs curled around you, delighting in how small you are, in how you fit against my body like you were meant to be there all this time. It makes sense Lou, it does.”

Harry brushes away the tiny tears forming at the sides of Louis’ eyes as Louis ineffectively blinks them back.

“You got me good Styles,” he complains.

Harry chuckles.

“Are you saying yes then?” He asks optimistically.

Louis levels him with a hard faced look. A look that says, don’t twist my words Harold, I was talking about the tears.

“Give in to me,” Harry sings, picking Louis up and feeling Louis’ legs instinctively wrap around him in response.

“Harry,” Louis whines, “you can’t use that damn song to get what you want all the time.”

Harry turns and backs Louis up against the door, trailing soft, open mouthed kisses down his neck and along his shirt line. He drags his mouth achingly slow over Louis’ collar bones, letting his breath ghost across them the way he knows Louis likes.

“I’m gonna start a fire,” Harry whispers against Louis’ skin, Louis tugging on his hair greedily in response to the teasing.

“You’re gonna feel the heat,” he continues, his palm pressed to one side of Louis’ neck as he works over the opposite side, taking the skin into his mouth and sucking.

Louis’ not even resisting. His feet dig into Harry’s back and he gasps, throwing his head back against the door as Harry reaches for his hand and drags it up against the door, intertwining their fingers and using his thumb to brush over the ring as he sings.

“I’m gonna burn for you,” he rasps in Louis’ ear, sucking his ear lobe into his mouth before planting a soft wet kiss just below his ear.

Louis pulls his head away aggressively and then shifts his gaze across Harry’s heat fuelled green eyes as he always does when he’s deciding something.

“You’re gonna melt for me,” Louis says lowly and oh god, his eyes in that moment swirling with love and lust make Harry's stomach swoop long and low, his thick eyelashes beating down against his perfect caramel skin.

Does this mean what Harry thinks it means?

“Will you-“

“I’ll move in with you Harry,” Louis interrupts, bringing their mouths together instantly and all Harry can do is smile into the kiss, enjoying the way Louis ruts against him so aggressively.

Of course that’s when there’s a rather loud knock on the door.

“Would have barged in lads but I’ve already seen Harry’s dick far too many times…and I was not impressed,” Niall shouts, startling Louis who pulls away from Harry with a puzzled expression.

“Is that,” he tilts his head, “Niall?”

Damn Harry and his plan. If he had thought this through better, he could be fucking Louis up against the door before too long. They’re both hard as anything and breathing hot and heavy. Harry lets Louis down, tugging him in front of his body, with an arm wrapped around his waist, whispering in his ear before he unlocks the door.

“We’re christening every single room later,” he vows.

Louis still looks a little confused about Niall but he turns slightly and plants one more kiss on Harry’s swollen lips.

“I’ve missed your mouth on me. All over me,” Louis sighs.

It’s too much. Harry’s fingers dig into Louis’ body possessively, his dick pulsing in his pants as the door swings open to reveal Niall clad in a plaid shirt, holding a bottle of champagne, flanked by Zayn and Liam. Liam’s donned in a long, brown trench coat and jeans and Zayn looks rather casual in a charcoal singlet and light coloured jeans as he quickly takes in Louis’ bulging package and groans, throwing his hands up in the air. Harry pulls Louis behind him in response.

“Course they were about to do it,” Zayn huffs, turning to Liam with a mournful expression, “can’t we come back later?”

“Harry told us 7 so we’re here at 7,” Niall answers for him, holding up the champagne with a grin, “brought the refreshments. Hope you’ve got some more in the fridge though.”

Niall barges in to the flat and legs it to the kitchen while Zayn and Liam press inside too, Zayn still mouthing off. Liam listens dutifully, petting at his face, soothing him like the disgruntled child he is. Harry and Louis follow Zayn and Liam to the couches as Niall fills some glasses and carries them to the table in the living area. Only when they’re all seated, Niall beside Zayn and Liam on the recliner and Louis snuggled into Harry’s lap in the arm chair, does Louis finally voice his confusion.

“What is going on? Niall…what are you doing in Doncaster?” He asks, taking a sip of his champagne before offering it to Harry who smiles and shakes his head but is unable to resist brushing the remaining droplets of Louis’ lips and sucking them off his thumb.

Louis raises his eyebrows and turns back around, wriggling his bum against Harry’s crotch as if to say…you can tease me but I'll do you one better every time. Harry grips Louis’ hips to stop him moving and tries to think about things that aren’t related to fucking his boyfriend who’s just agreed to move in with him.

“I live here mate,” Niall responds, leaning across the space between the two couches to pat Louis’ knee, “I knew I was the one you really missed.”

Harry growls at him and Niall cackles.

“Easy H,” he says, still laughing, “You got the boy.  Just like I said you would.”

Louis shakes his head, his face scrunching up adorably as he tries to process.

“Wait…you live here?” he echoes, “and this was your idea? The moving in thing?”

Niall opens his mouth to respond but Harry decides to take matters into his own hands, turning Louis’ head directly his way as he speaks.

“A few weeks ago when I was going out of my mind without you,” Harry says pointedly at which Louis cringes, clearly feeling guilty, “Niall and I went out clubbing with Nick and-“

“With Nick?” Louis interrupts, gripping Harry’s shoulder tightly, “Why were you out with Nick?”

“Oh here we go,” Zayn mutters.

Louis and Harry both ignore him.

“And Niall,” Harry reminds him but Louis’ expression doesn’t slacken, “and I was out with him cause he’s my friend. You know that.”

“Your friend who wants to get into your pants. Your friend who treats me like I’m something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe. You’ve barely seen him since we’ve been together,” Louis snarls, crossing his arms against his chest.

Harry uncrosses them with gentle hands, running his thumbs across Louis’ tense palms.

“I know. But you weren’t picking up my calls and then Nick asked me to go out. But Lou…baby…that’s why I took Niall. In case he tried anything.”

“I would have knocked him flat on his ass,” Niall inputs.

Louis doesn’t look away but he sends Niall a thumbs up signal which makes Niall laugh outrageously loud. Harry sinks his fingers into Louis’ hair.

“My heart is set on you-“ Harry starts.

“Harry, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t want no one else,” Harry croons, eyes roving over Louis’ face, trying to make him feel like the precious, perfect creature that he is, “and if you don’t want me…I guess I’ll be, all by myself.”

“I love you,” Louis sighs, all his tension gone as he kisses Harry soft and sweet.

“Get on with it H,” Niall groans, “you’re cute and all but I was kinda hoping we’d get to the good part soon.”

Louis pulls back at this, cocking his head slightly as he questions Harry.

“Good part?”

“Okay…so long story short, I had an awful time. I got pissed within an hour and Niall dragged my sorry ass back to my flat and left me some water, some Tylenol and a name and a number. The number ended up belonging to a real estate agent down here. After that, the rest was up to me. The piano. The record player. Finding a job. And of course Niall thought it couldn’t go wrong…hence the champagne. He believed in us just as much if not more than I did,” Harry explains with heavy emphasis.

Louis smiles at Harry, trailing his hand down the side of Harry’s face before getting up and settling himself down in Niall’s lap who instantly hugs him close. Harry hears Louis muffle a muted “thank you” against Niall’s neck who says “you’re welcome” and then with a sly wink at Harry, closes his mouth over Louis’ neck. There’s a deep rumble in Harry’s chest that feels a lot like the noise a bear might make when his or her bear cub is being threatened and well…Louis is his baby. Niall is love biting his baby.

“Get your filthy Irish lips off my boyfriend,” he roars.

Niall turns into Zayn’s shoulder, his body shaking with laughter and Zayn joins in, although at a much more acceptable level. Louis scoots off Niall and then folds himself back up on Harry, petting at his face the same way Liam had pet Zayn when they came in.

“Settle petal,” he soothes, “he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“And it’s working,” Harry growls.

“I don’t want no one else,” Louis sings softly in Harry’s ear and it’s the only thing that calms him as he pulls Louis slightly to the side, taking a deep breath and splaying his large hand across Louis' minuscule waist in a show of possessiveness.

“Anyway,” Harry sighs which makes Niall laugh again, “I wasn’t done with the story. So…I found this complex. Two stories and only three flats and the idea just came to me. What if the boys lived here too?”

Louis eyes light up at this and he looks over at the other three lads with a delighted expression.

“You guys…you guys live in here? Zayn…Liam, I saw you guys just the other day in your flat.”

Liam cracks a smug smile and winks at Harry before addressing Louis.

“We moved in yesterday as per Harry’s request. We’re just across the hall, Niall’s downstairs.”

“You better not have loud sex,” Zayn threatens, pointing his finger at them, “we will make a noise complaint.”

“He’s joking,” Liam says amicably, nestling his head against Zayn’s shoulder.

 _I’m not_ , Zayn mouths at them. Fortunately it just makes Louis laugh before he leans forward on Harry’s lap and points his own finger at Zayn.

“Well if we’re warning each other about things,” Louis says with a smirk, “you better not come here in tears because your special hair gel is out of stock. Like you were when you came and saw me a few weeks ago.”

Zayn’s expression darkens as Niall and Harry collapse into fits of laughter and Liam shakes his head at Zayn, clearly exasperated.

“….or at least knock first,” Louis continues drawing his arm around Harry’s neck as he speaks, “because Haz and I will probably…no, make that definitely…be having loud sex.”

“You’re lucky you like to get high,” Zayn grumbles, “Otherwise I’d have no other reason to be friends with you.”

“Other than that I mop up your hair gel induced tears,” Louis reminds him with raised eyebrows.

Thankfully Niall intercedes before Zayn can fire back.

“Well I’d like to warn everyone about something too,” he announces, looking around at them all.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“Stay away from my fridge and my pantry. Yes, I mean you Harry.”

“But I-“

“NIALL DOESN’T SHARE FOOD.”

It’s a perfect imitation of Joey from Friends and it makes them all laugh, especially Niall who slaps his knee, rocking back and forth with mirth. Louis presses his mouth against Harry’s ear and Harry’s never been so in love when Louis whispers to him and gently presses a kiss to his hair afterward.

“Harry, do you know what the difference is?” He breathes, pausing momentarily as Harry's hand spreads across his jean clad thigh, “I don’t mind sharing. Unless of course…it comes to sharing you."

……

“Harry…Harry, are you home?”

“I’m in here Lou.”

Harry’s in the bathroom adjoining their bedroom, messing with his buttons, trying to decide how many he can get away with leaving undone. Louis tends to berate him if there’s too many undone. Even after three years, he’s still a possessive, jealous little shit. Then again, Harry can't deny that he does enjoy it a little. More than a little. Okay a lot. He also happens to be just as bad, if not worse. Ain’t nobody going to steal his sunshine (Louis). He giggles at his LEN reference as he settles on two buttons undone and begins messing with his curls, trying to arrange them a bit more artfully.

“Harry,” Louis says, his throat sounding indecently tight as he appears behind Harry in the mirror, clutching the door frame with white knuckled fingers.

“Lou,” Harry gasps whirling around, as he takes in the frenzied blue eyes, the whites of Louis' eyes standing out scarily as he moves toward Harry, pulling him into a tight hug.

When Harry pulls back, he sees that Louis’ covered in cuts and scrapes, his singlet has a big rip in it through which a large gash can be viewed and his jeans are covered in dirt strains, looking especially worn around the knees.

“Louis, oh my god…what happened to you?” Harry panics, his hands flapping around the cut on Louis’ stomach as he tries not to hyperventilate…or cry…or treat Louis like a baby the way he hates.

“I’m okay. Promise.” Louis says as if the fact that he’s got a huge gash on his body and scrapes everywhere is of no consequence, “I just needed to talk to you.”

“No,” Harry says resolutely, cupping Louis’ cheeks as against his own intentions, his eyes fill with tears, “we need to get you checked out darling. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Louis pulls on his arm insistently, his own eyes suddenly filling up too.

“No, Harry,” he says weakly, “I’m fine. I just…I came off the motorcycle and-“

“I told you that thing was a bad idea,” Harry growls, his thumbs still brushing softly over the dirt collected on Louis’ face, “just because you’re gay, doesn’t mean you have to prove anything.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

 “You know that’s not why I got it and-“his breath stops and then he reaches through his shirt to his cut.

When his hand pulls away, there’s blood smeared across it and Harry has had enough. He’s not waiting any longer. He scoops Louis up in his arms, amid his protests and carries him to the car, speeding the whole way to the hospital even as Louis sits with crossed arms and a sullen face beside him.

…..

“Mr Styles,” the short, kind faced elderly lady calls to him, “you can see him now.”

Harry bounces up out of the chair like someone set a fire cracker up his bum and he races down the hallway to Louis’ room, not giving a shit about the strange looks he receives. Not caring that he’s wearing a seriously expensive royal blue shirt that Louis had said was his favourite (tonight was supposed to be date night) that’s now covered in his anxious sweat.

“Louis,” he sighs, relieved as he spies the smaller boy lying in the hospital bed, the only sign of discomfort being the petulant pout that’s perched on his lips.

Harry falls into the chair beside the bed and skates his hand down the side of Louis' face, leaning over to press a kiss to his creased forehead.

“I’m sorry baby,” Harry says, near mute as he sits back down, brushing his hand along Louis’ hair, “but you could have had internal bleeding. You would have done the same if it was me….wouldn’t you?”

Louis’ eyes fall closed each time Harry’s warm palm passes over his forehead. Like a sleepy kitten being petted. As if despite being angry at Harry, he can’t help but respond to the touch. It's indubitably endearing.

“That’s different,” Louis says stiffly, crossing his arms against his stomach beneath the sheet and then wincing at the pressure this places on his wound.

Harry’s hands flutter over him as he panics all over again.

“Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Should I get someone? I can get someone. Don’t be brave Louis, I-“

Louis yanks him quite forcefully down into a kiss. Harry’s lips remain frozen for a moment before his hand inevitably finds Louis’ jaw and Louis’ hand buries itself in the back of his curls as they kiss gently for a few minutes. Tentative brushes of their tongues and soft sighs that mingle together in the quiet of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says against his lips.

Harry pulls back to look at him with a frown.

“You are?”

“You were right to worry and you were right, that I would do the exact same. I’m sorry. And I’m fine,” Louis pulls the sheet down now and through the gap in his singlet, there’s a square shaped, white bandage stuck to the wound, “I’m fine…but I’m not.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“I wanted to talk to you before because I-,” Louis pauses, swallowing as he takes Harry’s hand between his two, his voice turning rough, “I don’t want to lose you. I could have…it could have been a lot worse. Or it could have been something else. It could have been you who got hurt. And I, I just…I don’t want you to leave me Harry without-“

“Louis….darling, I would never leave you,” Harry says, his sincerity burning in his intensely green eyes.

“No,” Louis says, smiling now but with some sort of sadness blatant in his expression as his downcast eyelashes beat against his cheeks, “I know you wouldn’t but you might not have a choice. We might not have a choice Harry and I…I want to be with you always, even when I can’t be, you know?”

Harry’s eyebrows pull down further. He really doesn't know.

“What?”

Louis sighs his annoyance and then tries again.

“If something happens…I want there to be no doubt in yours or anybody else’s mind about how much I love you.”

“There isn’t,” Harry says, confused, “there wouldn’t be. I know you love me. I know you want to be with me always, I want that too.”

Louis’ expression changes in an instant as he kneads Harry’s palm and looks up into Harry’s eyes with something beautifully bright burning within. Harry can’t quite get a read on what it is though. Something akin to faith. Something like certainty.

“You do?” He says, with a scratchy tone.

Harry’s bewildered and it shows.

“Of course. Lou, what’s going on?”

“I can’t…” Louis chews on his mouth, “would you let me get out of this bed and not make a fuss?”

Harry considers telling him no but the earnestness in his expression is too much for Harry’s heart.

“Okay,” he agrees.

Louis slips out from beneath the sheets and then stands, still holding Harry’s hand in his.

“Louis, what’s going on?” Harry questions.

Then, Louis drops, a touch unsteadily to one knee and Harry gasps quite comically and the only thing keeping him upright is Louis’ hand holding his, so tight.

“Harry,” Louis says, steadily with a watery smile and crinkled up eyes, “I know this is probably not the way you imagined this. Me, looking like someone hacked at my skin with scissors instead of like the beautiful creature you fell in love with,” Harry rolls his eyes at this, “but I have never been this sure of anything in my life. Since the day that I met you, I’ve had doubts. Doubts that I could open up, doubts that you would still respect me, doubts that I could love you and Elliot at the same time, doubts that we could make it away from camp and doubts that moving in together after one year was the right thing to do. But every time, you vanquished my fear…every time you proved my doubts false.”

Harry’s hand is shaking inside Louis’ and Louis squeezes his fingers comfortingly.

“But now…there is no doubt in my mind that I want you always and forever. There is no doubt in my mind that I will love you and be in love with you until we’re old and grey and need so much lube to have sex that we just end up just having sex on a chair in the shower instead,” Harry laughs wetly at this, brushing at his tears that have begun to brim over, “and I want you to be my husband Harry and have children with me. I want a life with you…for real. Harry, sweetheart…will you marry me?”

Louis pulls his dirt encrusted ring from his finger now and pauses just before Harry’s ring finger.

“This is only temporary,” he says, twisting the ring in his hand, “I’ll buy you something better I swear. Plus, I want this back.”

Harry looks down at the man of his dreams and lets his dimples do all the work. He lets them tell the story of his decision before it leaves his mouth. Tears slip down the sides of his face as he moves his hand closer to Louis'.

“Yes,” he whispers, “yes I’ll marry you.”

Louis’ breath hitches and he slides the ring onto Harry’s finger, his own hand trembling as he does so. Harry hauls him up from the ground, forgetting his injuries for a moment but Louis doesn’t protest as their mouths surge together, their tears mingling as they break away, laughing at nothing. Laughing at the impossibility of such a moment, the impossibility of finding one another. Yet somehow it’s happening, somehow they did.

“I love you,” Harry sighs, thumbing at Louis’ bottom lip which curves upward in response.

“I love you too,” Louis returns, petting the sides of Harry’s hair desperately, “I love you so fucking much.”

Harry wraps Louis in his arms again, planting kiss after kiss on his shoulder and his neck, a few more tears escaping his eyes as he imagines the rest of their life together and what it will bring. He’d take whatever time he could get with Louis but the rest of their lives sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Harry's only 25, Louis just 22 but he knows, he knows deep in the pit of his stomach, that Louis is his eternity and that for better or worse, Louis feels the same. There will never be anybody else.

…….

“They don’t match the shoes,” the smaller boy says, as he sticks out the red TOMS which are in stark contrast to the dark trousers and equally dark braces.

“Well wear some black ones,” Harry suggests, holding tight to the door frame as he takes in the pursed mouth and critical blue eyes as the boy before him twists his foot back and forth in the mirror.

“You look perfect love,” Harry assures him.

The response is a dismissive sigh.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Harry says with a soft smile.

The short, brunette wanders back into the wardrobe and there’s some rustling around as he looks for an alternative pair of shoes.

“Better get a move on,” Harry warns him, “you know I promised him we’d be there early.”

“I’m hurrying,” comes the disgruntled reply.

Harry grins and then turns and leaves the room, knocking on the door to the room beside it.

…..

When they walk into the large community centre, hand in hand, Harry almost bursts with pride. There’s a temporary stage set up to the left. Above it, there's a sign hanging from the roof that’s covered by a sheet attached to a string connected to a pulley by the side of the stage. There’s a huge amount of standing space around the room with a long table set in the back with refreshments and snacks and a huge stack of leaflets with information printed in them that Harry helped write. There’s not many people here yet but when they reach the centre of the room, there _he_ is waiting by the other side of the room. As soon as his eyes lock with Harry’s, he begins to move and then as he takes in the two people either side of Harry, he runs forward.

“What has Daddy done to you both?” Louis cries, pulling their children to him as he bends down and hugs them both, planting kisses on their little faces.

Elliot presses his tiny fingers against the stubble either side of Louis’ face as he looks up at him with panic.

“Don’t you like it pa? Daddy said you’d think it was cute.”

Harry thinks their two children look adorable personally. Four year old Elliot looks like a tiny version of Louis in his white long sleeved shirt and braces, having chosen some very tiny black TOMS (“now I match daddy”)  and with his fringe all spiked up just like Louis.’ He may as well be wearing a sign that says “Louis’ DNA” but Harry’s influence is there too in the miniature fedora he’d decided on at the last minute (Harry may or may not have looked for hours online to find it after Elliot had cried into Louis’ shirt, pleading for a ‘big hat like daddy’s, pleeeeease pa’.)  He’s also there in the mashed banana on the back of Elliot’s trousers. He'd consumed half a “na-na” in the car before deciding it was a good idea to store the rest in his back pocket.

Darcy, 7, is technically Harry’s daughter and Louis had nearly cried with joy when she’d grown dark ringlets and started singing Stevie Wonder back to Harry. However Louis’ been teaching her footie too and Harry is not at all ashamed to admit that she’s much better than him. There’s been more than a few times that it’s been Darcy and Louis against Harry, with his poor kicking ability and Elliot, on his still fairly tiny legs and Darcy’s stolen the ball from him all game. He couldn’t be more proud, often calling out to her as she goes for goal, “you got this sweetheart,” even as Louis shakes his head and calls out to him, “terrible goal keeper love.” He’d dressed her in a jersey he’d had specially made to look like the one Louis gave him all those years ago, wearing the original himself and secretly glowing at the fact that it still fits.

“I do,” Louis affirms, flicking one of the braces lightly which makes Elliot giggle, “but do you like it?”

“Yes,” Elliot nods very seriously, his fedora bobbing along with his head, “daddy said we were showing support.”

“Thank you my beautiful babies,” Louis says with love, drawing Elliot and Darcy to him with closed eyes.

Darcy beats at his chest.

“We’re not babies Pa,” she complains.

Louis pulls back and tucks a tendril of her wayward curly hair behind her ear.

“No, you’re right,” he smiles at her and Harry can feel the emotion expanding in his chest as he does, “you’re growing up to be a beautiful young lady Darce.”

Darcy blushes, ever the shy one and smiles, obviously pleased.

“Thank you pa.”

Louis plants a kiss in her curls and then rises up to greet Harry.

“Hello my extraordinary supportive, extremely fit,” Louis pauses, letting his eyes rove over Harry’s chest clad in the faded, red jersey, “wonderful husband.”

“Hi,” Harry says, letting his eyes travel down to Louis’ body, taking in the dark blue button up that covers his muscled torso and tiny waist and the black velvety jacket and tight trousers that frame his sinful thighs before trailing them back up to his alluring blue eyes, “you look…like nobody should be looking at you but me.”

Louis laughs and then presses their mouths together in a short but sweet kiss. Elliot giggles, pulling at Harry’s pant leg to try and get his attention while Darcy whines and covers her eyes. Harry and Louis break away with a laugh, each turning to tend to one child, their eyes meeting over their heads.

 _I love you_ , Harry mouths

 _I know_ , Louis mouths back.

He winks as Harry settles him with a glare.

…..

“Hi,” Louis says cheerfully into the microphone, letting his eyes travel across the audience to the very side of the stage where Harry stands, Elliot on his hip and Darcy by his side, “I’d like to welcome you all to a place that’s become very special to me over the past year as my husband and I have worked to set it up. A dear friend of mine, Karen Spencer, passed away two years ago today from breast cancer. It was a very difficult time for me and if not for my beautiful family,” Louis waves at them, Elliot waving back, looking awed while Darcy hides her face against Harry, turning shy and Harry himself blows a kiss, “I don’t think I would have made it through. Anyway…my wonderful friend left nearly everything to me with one simple request; do good and be happy.”

Louis looks down at his notes on the lectern and then moves to the side, reaching up to tug on the pulley which causes the sheet to fall and reveal the sign, resulting in rapturous applause. The sign bears the name Louis first uttered when they returned from the reading of the will, Louis, completely overtaken by grief but empowered and determined even then.

_The Elliot Spencer Youth Centre for Mental Health_

“This right here,” Louis says with strength, gesturing at the sign, “is the good she has allowed me to do. With her money and my husband’s support, I decided I was going to open a centre for improving the mental health among our youth population in honour of her son, the late Elliot Spencer after which my son, Elliot Nialler Tomlinson is named. This centre will offer both free and easily affordable services to those in need. Those with nowhere else to turn. My husband Harry will be taking on a role as the leading counsellor for depression and other mental disorders while myself and Liam,” Louis gestures to a spot in the crowd where Liam stands in a light blue suit, hand in hand with Zayn, dressed in all black who hoists their son, Harrison, higher on his hip, “will handle administration and management.”

Louis takes a deep breath and then settles his gaze on the lonesome blonde by the opposite side of the stage to Harry who’s wearing his usual expression; an enthused grin, as he flashes Louis the thumbs up sign.

“Niall, my good friend, will also be working with us as a dietician, dealing with food related disorders such as anorexia nervosa which plague our youths and yet are left so commonly untreated and are often stigmatised within our community. These are just some of the roles…we have many people coming on board with this project and a few more spots to fill but with Karen’s generous donation to me and my family, we have made this a reality. I am proud to announce that we have garnered the support of Paul Higgins and his camps for young males with mental health problems which will run through us from now on with Zayn Malik working in tandem with Paul to continue successfully running The Boy to Boy Project.”

There’s a small round of applause and when Harry looks around, there are hordes of people nodding and whispering to each other in dulcet tones that sound more approving than anything. This is what Louis needs…for people to back him and spread the word. To make an impact, he needs to have a good reputation within the media and throughout the community. Harry couldn’t be more proud of him in this moment. He’s come a long way from the boy that refused to talk to Harry and cried into Harry’s arms about the pain he’d thought he’d caused. Now he’s a spokesperson for youth mental health and he’s trying to make a difference to the lives of people he used to resemble, people that affect him because like Elliot, they suffer in silence. Harry couldn’t conjure a better role model for their two kids.

“Now I won’t say much else, I’ve got to let you explore the place a bit it seems but I would like to talk about the second part of Karen’s request…to be happy. It sounds simple enough I’m sure and I’m sure, looking out at you now, that you assume it can’t have been too difficult a road for me considering the fact that my lovely family’s standing before you,” Louis trails his eyes across the crowd and then settles them on Harry’s face, all the love they’ve shared over the years colouring his expression and his voice as he continues, “but I wasn’t always the man with a plan. I wasn’t always out here trying to change things with the love of my life by my side. Once upon a time I was a struggling youth myself who didn’t think I deserved to be happy, let alone that it was possible.”

Louis looks down and twists his wedding ring, an especially soft glow about him that steals Harry's breath. He’s so beautiful like this. Lost in his own memories, immersed in his own happiness.

“I met a boy,” Louis says and Harry can hear the lump in his throat and his own heart presses against his rib cage, straining for Louis like always, “and he changed everything I thought I knew about life and love. He coaxed this brightness from me that I thought had been vanquished by all the darkness in my life. He’s proof that it takes just one person, just one,” Louis holds up a trembling finger, “to believe in you, the way that boy believed in me and you can taste the most beautiful things in life again. You can feel them. That boy, that man…he once said to me that even though the world’s not all happy endings and the like, you have a shot at love and happiness and all the best things if you let those vivid emotions in. What he didn’t say was that it’s so much easier when someone shows you that it’s okay to do so. That’s what I hope this centre will do…show people who have given up and given in that there’s still a chance, that if they want to, they can heal. That boy’s name was Harry Styles. And if Niall, their godfather would just take my children off his hands, I would like to dance with that boy on this stage.”

Harry hadn’t been informed of this but he hands Elliot to Niall and places Darcy’s hand in his, Niall clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a wink as he turns and walks back to his spot. Louis holds out a hand to Harry as ‘hero’ by Enrique Iglesias fills the room. Harry takes to the stage and then pulls Louis near, taking the lead as he usually does.

“You didn’t tell me,” Harry whispers in his ear as they move slowly back and forth, Louis’ hand intertwined with his, Harry gripping his waist.

“I only decided earlier when Niall was setting up the sound system. He was playing music on his phone and it came on. I remembered. That night…” Louis looks up at him with translucent blue eyes that tug on his, pulling the nostalgia from him and the echo of that moment so long ago when his heart got the better of him and spilled without much thought, “the first time you told me you loved me.”

Harry reaches up and cups Louis’ cheek, not the slightest bit surprised at the way Louis tilts his head into it. He is surprised however, when Louis’ bottom lip trembles and he bites down on it, blinking rapidly as tears form.

“What’s wrong?” Harry says, “I thought this was everything you wanted. This centre. Us. Our family.”

“Exactly,” Louis croaks, “and I never thought I’d have so much. Thank you Harold.”

“Lou,” Harry says, moved beyond measure as he takes his hand from Louis’ waist to cup his face properly as he brushes their lips against one another, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Don’t forget that you gave as much to me as I gave to you.”

Louis’ fingers sink into his curls and with intensely blue eyes, he looks up at Harry with a tremulous smile and more love in his expression than Harry has ever seen in anybody’s expression. The small, baby pink lips, the honey toned skin, the velvety soft dark hair…all of it has an extra shimmer around it when Louis looks at him like this. In these moments where neither of them can shift their gaze because nothing else exists for them…and nothing else has to.

“You saved me Harry,” Louis says reverently, “in every way that a person can be saved. I love you baby.”

Harry’s thumbs brush against pointed cheekbones as he brings his face nearer to Louis’. He looks into those blue eyes and journeys back to a river bank, a sunset overlooking a hill, the muted lighting of a tent, the flickering campfire….to the first time he looked into these wizened blue eyes and saw a legion of pain but also such potential for wondrous joy. He thinks back to one of their first true exchanges and hears the double timbre of the echoing memory. He remembers the first time that voice wrapped around his name like an embrace.

_I don’t hate you Harold_

_It’s Harry_

Harry presses his thumb to the corner of Louis’ mouth as he looks over the man he loves and sees the boy who clung to his chest and fell asleep in his arms crying. He sees the boy who sucked cake off his finger with mischief in his eyes and the boy who tried to teach him how to kick a ball. The boy who confessed his secrets upon a hill with shaking limbs and the boy who kissed him by the fire for the first time out of pure, mad jealousy. The boy he would follow to the ends of the earth. The man who kissed him all over his face when he confessed he couldn’t choose between roses and lilies for their wedding. The man who wept when Lou Teasdale passed him Darcy and then again, when Elliot was born. The man who still comes instantly when Harry declares his love during sex. The man who loves him with everything in his soul and still somehow has some left for everybody else. Harry sees every scratch, every tear, every stitched over and stitched up patch of Louis’ soul and loves every inch.

 Zayn hadn’t believed.

_I’ll bet you fifty bucks you can’t get through to that guy_

Pay up, Harry feels like shouting to Zayn but he doesn’t because it matters not. The lads thought Louis would be his greatest challenge…and maybe he was. Just not for the reasons they thought. Louis was his greatest challenge because with one glimpse beyond his exterior, with one look, with one lingering gaze…Harry knew. He knew that for as long as he lived, he would burn for one person and one person only. With a lovesick sigh, he makes it known.

“I’m  _so_  gone for you Louis Tomlinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know how you feel about the ending or the story in general!  
> I will have the first chapter of my NEW FIC up tomorrow :)   
> I am aware that children aren't carbon copies of one parent. However, I thought it would be cuter that way so I bent the rules of reality :P  
> Finally, thank you for posting such lovely comments and leaving kudos and for reading this. It's brought me so much joy to know that I've succeeded in giving some of you feels and making you smile.   
> I LOVE YOU !


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